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ENGLISH classics 



IRVING STORIES 



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Class 7SJkA££ 

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COPYK1GHT DEPOSIT. 



IRVING STORIES 



EDITED BY 

RUTH LOMBARD HOLCOMB 

i\ 

INSTRUCTOR IN ELEMENTARY ENGLISH 
ALBANY, N. Y. 



F. M. AMBROSE AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK AND BOSTON 

1921 






Copyp.ight, 1921, 

BY 

F. M. AMBROSE AND CO. 



QC1 22 I92I 



©CI.A627538 



CONTENTS 



Introduction .... 
Life of Washington Irving 
Story of the Old Dutch Church 
Inscription on Irving's Tombstone 
Sunnyside .... 
Tarry town and the Tappan Zee 
The Catskill Mountains . 
Origin of the Stories 

I. Rip Van Winkle 
II. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow 

III. The Spectre Bridegroom . 

IV. The Adventure of My Aunt 
V. Legend of the Moor's Legacy 

VI. Legend of the Rose of the Alham 
The Alhambra . . . 

The Moors in Spain . 

Conquest of Granada 

The Alhambra . 
Falconry .... 
The Text .... 
Rip Van Winkle 
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow 



bra 



IV 



CONTEXTS 



The Spectre Bridegroom . 
The Adventure of My Aunt 
Legend of the Moor's Legacy 
Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra 
Lesson Studies .... 



PAGE 

90 

112 
119 
147 
165 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

SrxxYSiDE Frontispiece 

Map of Tarry town vm 

A View in the Catskill 20 

Joseph Jefferson in the Character of Rip . . 34 

Old Sleepy Hollow Mill 52 

Home of Katrina Van Tassel ..... 58 

Old Dutch Church ....... 76 

The Alhambra ........ 119 



The publishers are indebted to G. P. Putnam's Sons for the 
use of these selections from the works of Washington Irving. 



A CHRONOLOGY OF IRVING 'S LIFE 

The following is a chronology giving the important events in 
the life of Washington Irving. 
1783 Born in New York City. Father a hardware merchant, 

a strict Presbyterian. Educated at various schools in 

the city. At the age of sixteen began to study law. 
1802-6 Threatened with consumption. Traveled in New York 

and Canada; then (1804r-6) in France, Italy, and 

England. 
1806 Returned to New York. Admitted to the bar, but 

more interested in society than in law. 
1807-8 Death of Irving's father. Participated in Salmagundi, 

a periodical modeled after the Spectator. 
1809 Death of Matilda Hoffman, his fiancee. 

Creative Work and Life Abroad 

1809 Knickerbocker s History of New York. 

1810 Partner with his two brothers, merchant importers. 

1814 Secretary and aid to Governor Tompkins of New York, 
until the end of the war. 

1815 Went to Europe to assist the failing business of his 
brother?. Met Byron and Scott. 

1818 The firm bankrupt, gave himself to literature; The 
Sketch Book, including Rip Van Winkle and The Legend 
of Sleepy Hollow. 

1826 After travel on continent settled in Madrid. 



vi .1 CHRONOLOGY OF IRVING' & LIFE 

1828 Life and Voyages of Columbus. 

1829 Made secretary to American legal ion in London. 

Semi-Creative Work in America 

L832 Returned to America. Trip to West and South. Dur- 
ing the next few years undertook the support of several 
nieces and nephews. Lost considerable money in west- 
ern "paper towns" and purchased Sunnyside on the 
Hudson near Tarrytown, New York. 

1838 Declined the position as Secretary of the Navy. 

1842-6 Minister to Spain. 

1849 Life of Goldsmith . 

1855-9 Life of Washington. 

1859 Death. Buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Tarrytown, 
X. Y. 




Map o 
Dark lines represent old roads. 

1. Old Manor House. 

2. Old Grain Mill. 

3. Old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow. 

4. Site of ancient Saw Mill. 

5. Site of Sleepy Hollow School House. 

6. David's House, visited by Washington. 

7. The Andre Captors' Monument. 

8. Site of Old Mott House (Katrina Van Tassel's). 




HUDSON RIVER 



RRYTOWN 

igures denote the sites of interest : 
9. Site of Couenhoven House. 

10. " Tommy " Dean's Store. 

11. Westchester County Savings Bank. 

12. Herrick's Castle. 

13. Christ Church, of which Mr. Irving was a Warden, 

14. Old Martling House. 

15. Site of Paulding House. 
16-17. Revolutionary Redoubts. 



INTRODUCTION 

LIFE OF WASHINGTON IRVING 

Washington irving is sometimes spoken of as the 
" American Goldsmith" because his sketches show 
a lovable, kindly, and humorous nature. To him also 
belongs the title " The Founder of American Literature." 
The fact that Irving loved literature for its own sake 
and not as a means to the attainment of some social, 
moral, or political end, differentiates him from his 
predecessors. The field of letters in America was 
practically unoccupied when Irving began to write. 
Bryant's " Thanatopsis " did not appear until eight 
years after Irving's first book was published, and it 
was three years later when Cooper's first novel, Pre- 
caution, became known. 

Washington Irving was born in New York City, 
April 3, 1783. From a very early age the lad possessed 
a tendency to rove about in the near-by places and also 
to explore the surrounding country. He was especially 
interested in the places near his home that had become 
famous through fable or by a tragedy in real life. We 
find that it was this which furnished a background 
for many of the short stories for which he is famous. 

The educational facilities of his home town were 
meager, and Irving was not fond of study. Rather 
than go to school, he preferred to linger around the 

1 



2 fin' IXC STORIES 

wharves and dream of the distant countries from which 
the great ships had come. As a result of all this, he 
became very much interested in books of travel, 
especially Robinson Crusoe and Sinbad. Irving, be- 
cause he was a dreamer, lacked the powers of con- 
centration and therefore made slow progress in school. 

At the age of sixteen he began the study of law. In 
the midst of his studies it was discovered that he was 
threatened with consumption. Consequently a voyage 
to Europe was prescribed for him, and he sailed in 1804. 
His experiences are described in his essay The Voyage. 
His health was restored by this journey, and he gave 
himself up to sight-seeing and to making friends. 

After returning to America in 1806, he was admitted 
to the bar, but instead of devoting his time to the prac- 
tice of law he followed his literary inclinations and 
turned to writing. 

His first publication was a periodical, Salmagundi, 
which dealt chiefly with the manners and customs of 
the people of his time. It contained a great amount 
of humor, which afforded much entertainment and 
amusement to its readers. Probably one of Irving's 
greatest works, and the one which acquired for him 
great renown, was the Knickerbocker's History of New 
York, published in 1809. This was the first real piece 
of literature which America had produced. 

Six years after this publication he made his second 
visit to England. Finally he entered into the business 
which his brothers had been carrying on unsuccess- 
fully. A few years after this, however, the firm failed ; 



INTRODUCTION 3 

and the financial condition of the Irving family was 
such that he was compelled to help in restoring the 
family's fortune. Again he turned to writing. This 
proved to be the turning point of his career. It was 
at this time (1819-1820) that The Sketch Book was 
published. 

Other of his noted works that soon followed were 
Bracebridge Hall (1822), Tales of a Traveler (1824), 
Life of Columbus (1828), and the Alhambra (1829). 
Upon his return to America in 1832 a public dinner was 
given in his honor. He was the first American writer 
to win a reputation in England. 

During the years between 1832 and 1842, Irving 
bought and developed the land overlooking Tappan 
Zee, north of Tarrytown. To this he gave the name 
Sunnyside. The influence which has spread like a 
charm from Sunnyside has been that of its master's 
personality more than of his genius. The social life 
in the neighborhood he had chosen was delightful to 
a man of his temperament. His life in Tarrytown 
was that of a citizen who took pleasure in identifying 
himself with the interests of his neighborhood. In 
Christ Church, which he attended regularly, he was 
a warden. His simple, unaffected courtesy made him 
a welcome guest not only in the homes of the wealthy 
and influential people but in those of his humbler 
neighbors. 

During the years from 1842 to 1846, Irving served 
as our Minister to Spain. It was during his visits 
there that he formulated his material for his first 



4 IRVING STORIES 

volume of The Life of Washington. He wished this 
book to be the crowning work of his life. The work 
was done under great difficulties. Because old age 
was rapidly creeping upon him, the work dragged; 
and as a result the last volume appeared only a short 
time before his death. The chief charms of the book 
are its clear and beautiful style and its vivid de- 
scriptions. 

Irving was seventy-six years of age when he died at 
his home, Sunny side, late in 1859. George William 
Curtis says of him, "The country was proud of him; 
the older authors knew him not as a rival, but as a 
friend ; the younger loved him as a father. Such love, 
I think, is better than fame." 

STORY OF THE OLD DUTCH CHURCH 

Beside the mill pond, and between the Pocantico 
River and the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Frederick 
Philips (a patroon who owned what is now the home 
of Elsie Janis) built a church known as the "Old Dutch 
Church." It is said that the building was constructed 
in 1699 ; this is shown by the tablet which still exists 
on the church. But the date on the church itself is 
L685, so there is doubt as to which is exact. 

When the church was new, there were seven windows 
where there are now but six, and a door on the south 
side instead of al the west, as at present. The walls 
were thirty inches in thickness and the sills of the 
windows more than seven feet above the floor, so that 



INTRODUCTION 5 

the savages of the woods could not look in upon the 
congregation. These openings were traversed by 
iron bars which gave still greater security to the build- 
ing. It was so well constructed that it would have 
been possible in time of danger to convert it into a 
fortress. 

The interior of the church revealed evidence of taste 
and skill. The word of God was delivered by the 
dominie from his octagonal perch with a hexagonal 
pendant of mahogany hanging over him. 

The seats were of the crudest type. The benches 
used by the farmers and their families were made of 
unyielding oak and were without backs. The slaves 
and working class sat in the gallery at the back of the 
church, with a man to keep them in order. Here, too, 
sat the choir. The lord of the manor and his family 
were furnished with boxes at the right and left of the 
dominie. 

From the top of the walls great oak beams crossed 
the church, and above these extended an arched ceiling 
of whitewashed oak. As a whole, this church is a 
very unique piece of architecture. 

In connection with the Old Dutch Church is the 
Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. On the tombstones are 
found many interesting inscriptions. Among these 
are the following : 

Death is a debt 
To nature due ; 
Which I have paid : 
And so must vou. 



HIVING STORIES 

vou are now so once was I 
As I am now so you will he 

lNSCEIPTIW w W* To MBSTONE ! 
WA8BW0T0N I RVING 

Bom 
April 3, J 783 

Diek 
N ov. 28, 1859. 

SUNNYSIDE 
Sunnyside was *+ „ 
£*. one of The^: ^ the *- of Wolfe* 
S hur <*- The p^ 7£ £°? ° f the Old Dutch 
Roost." Atth**- , m known as «Wr,v « 
At tiie time of th* p i . VVoIfert's 

'" ,tcd »» of the 8ame 4 frr T p " otism at - 

J-pe ii „m Tarrytown and 



INTRODUCTION 7 

Sleepy Hollow. In March, 1802, Jacob Van Tassel 
sold the property to Oliver Ferris. 

When Washington Irving was but a small boy, he 
frequently rowed a boat to the willows that overhung 
the little brook that runs through the Sunnyside glen 
and read or dreamed away long summer afternoons. 
A deep satisfaction of the spot gained such a foothold 
upon his imagination that during his travels in Europe 
he at no time forgot the little house on the river. 

Returning to America in 1835, Irving visited the 
familiar place and purchased it. The rebuilding of 
Sunnyside, as he named the house, afforded him some 
of the happiest hours of his life. The ivy which over- 
runs it was brought by him from Melrose, Scotland. 
The home still remains in the possession of the Irving 
family. 

TARRYTOWN AND THE TAPPAN ZEE 

Tarrytown is a village in Westchester County, sit- 
uated on the Hudson River about twenty-seven miles 
north of New York City. It is famous historically 
as the place of Andre's capture in 1780, and as the 
home of Washington Irving. 

It has been said that in proportion to its population 
this small territory including Sleepy Hollow and 
Irvington is the wealthiest spot of ground in the world. 
As Edgar Mayhew Bacon says in the Chronicles of 
Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow, "You cannot throw 
a stone without hitting a millionaire." No words can 



8 IRVING STORIES 

express more forcibly the change which the hamlet 
has undergone. Where the Dutch settlers hewed 
their homes out of the forest, where the cowboys and 
skinners l ranged over the neutral territory, where 
the headless horseman found room to throw his pump- 
kin without hitting any one more important than poor 
Ichabod, where Irving wandered through sylvan lanes 
and beside babbling brooks in search of legends and 
folk-lore, we have mansions, gardens, and a large 
population. 

Tarrytown to-day is bounded on the north by the 
magnificent estates of John D. Rockefeller and William 
Rockefeller, and on the south by that of the Goulds. 
By referring to the map, these estates, as well as many 
other places of interest in Tarrytown, may be located. 

On the outskirts of the village, extending north and 
south for several miles, is that famous valley known 
to all as Sleepy Hollow. It is bordered by extensive 
hills, broken by small tributary valleys. Probably the 
most famous of these valleys is that one through which 
flows Pocantico Creek on its course to the Hudson. 

From the heights of Tarrytown may be seen that part 
of the Hudson River known as Tappan Zee. This 
name was given to that part of the river between 
Haverstraw and Piermont. It is approximately twelve 
miles in length and between four and five miles in 
1 >readth. Irving often spoke of it as the Mediterranean 
of the river. 

1 Bands of plunderers in the time of the American Revolution 
win. roamed over the Neutral Ground. 



INTRODUCTION 9 

THE CATSKILL MOUNTAINS 

The Catskill Mountains are a part of the great 
Appalachian system. The highest summit, Slide 
Mountain, has an altitude of 4205 feet. The summits 
of these mountains command extensive and beautiful 
prospects. The scenery of this group is diversified 
by cascades, rocky precipices, small lakes, and deep 
ravines. Many of the old farm-houses (for farming 
was carried on extensively here in years past) have 
been converted into large and magnificent mountain 
houses or hotels. 

It has been said that when Irving wrote the story 
Rip Van Winkle he had in mind no definite place in the 
Catskills, yet it is believed that Rip's home and the 
place where he slept were on the Hudson slope of South 
Mountain. A rough, winding road leads to this house, 
which is nestled in a hollow surrounded by high, wooded 
cliffs. Near by stands a dilapidated hotel, known as 
the Half-way-House. Not far from this place may be 
found a great bowlder on which is inscribed " Rip's 
Rock." This marks the spot where Rip had his long 
sleep. 

The completion of several mountain railroads, which 
penetrate the very heart of the Catskill, has opened 
this section to the great tide of summer travel; and 
as a result these mountains have become a favorite 
resort. 



10 IRVING STORIES 

ORIGIN OF THE STORIES 

I. Rip Van Winkle 

The short story, Rip Van Winkle, written by Wash- 
ington Irving in the year 1819, was adopted from the 
German legend of Peter Klaus, a goatherd, who fell 
asleep one day upon the Hills of Kypphauser and did 
not awaken until twenty years had passed. He re- 
turned to his native village to find everything changed 
and no one who knew him. 

In Irving 's tale the hero, Rip Van Winkle, one of the 
Dutch colonists of New York, met a stranger in a 
ravine of the Cat skill Mountains. Some versions say 
that this stranger was a follower of Hendrick Hudson. 
Rip helped the stranger to carry a keg to a retreat 
among the rocks, where he saw strange people playing 
skittles in mysterious silence. Rip took the first 
opportunity of tasting the keg, fell into a stupor, and 
slept for twenty years. On awakening he found his 
village remodeled, all the inhabitants strangers, and 
America independent. 

A stage version by Boucicault earned great success 
through the historic genius of Joseph Jefferson. 

At the conclusion of the story, as it appears in the 
original edition, are the following notes : 

NOTE 

The foregoing Talc, one would suspect, had boon suggested to 
Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the 
Emperor Frederick der Rothbart, and the Kypphauser moun- 



INTRODUCTION 11 

tain ; the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to the 
tale, shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual 
fidelity. 

"The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, 
but nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity 
of our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to mar- 
velous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many 
stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson ; all 
of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I have 
even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when last I saw 
him, was a very old venerable man, and so perfectly rational and 
consistent on every other point, that I think no conscientious 
person could refuse to take this into the bargain; nay, I have 
seen a certificate on the subject taken before a country justice 
and signed with a cross, in the justice's own handwriting. The 
story therefore is beyond the possibility of doubt. 

"D. K." 

POSTSCRIPT 

The following are travelling notes from a memorandum-book 
of Mr. Knickerbocker : 

The Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a re- 
gion full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of 
spirits, who influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or clouds 
over the landscape, and sending good or bad hunting seasons. 
They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother. 
She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills, and had charge 
of the doors of day and night to open and shut them at the 
proper hour. She hung up the new moons in the skies, and cut 
up the old ones into stars. In times of drought, if properly 
propitiated, she would spin light summer clouds out of cobwebs 
and morning dew, and send them off from the crest of the moun- 
tain, flake after flake, like flakes of carded cotton, to float in the 
air; until, dissolved by the heat of the sun, they would fall in 
gentle showers, causing the grass to spring, the fruits to ripen, 
and the corn to grow an inch an hour. If displeased, however, 
she would brew up clouds black as ink, sitting in the midst of 
them like a bottle-bellied spider in the midst of its web; and 
when these clouds broke, woe betide the valleys ! 



12 IRVING STORIES 

In old limes, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of 
Manitou or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the 
Cat skill Mountains, and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking 
all kinds of evils and vexations upon the red men. Sometimes 
he would assume the form of a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead 
the bewildered hunter a weary chase through tangled forest and 
among ragged rocks ; and then spring off with a loud ho ! ho ! 
leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling precipice or raging 
torrent. 

The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a 
great rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and 
from the flowering vines which clamber about it, and the wild 
flowers which abound in its neighborhood, is known by the name 
of the Garden Rock. Near the foot of it is a small lake, the 
haunt of the solitary bittern, with water-snakes basking in the 
sun on the leaves of the pond-lilies which he on the surface. 
This place was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch that 
the boldest hunter would not pursue his game within its pre- 
cincts. Once upon a time, however, a hunter, who had lost his 
way, penetrated to the Garden Rock, where he beheld a number 
of gourds placed in the crotches of trees. One of these he seized 
and made off with it, but in the hurry of his retreat he let it 
fall among the rocks, when a great stream gushed forth, which 
washed him away and swept him down precipices, where he was 
dashed to pieces, and the stream made its way to the Hudson, 
and continues to flow to the present dsiy; being the identical 
stream known by the name of Kaaters-kill. 

II. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow 

Irving adds the following note at the end of the 
story : 

POSTSCRIPT 

FOUND IN THE HANDWRITING OF MR. KNICKERBOCKER 

The preceding tale is given almost in the precise words in 
which I heard it related at a Corporation meeting of the ancient 
city of Manhattoes, at which were present many of its sagest 



INTRODUCTION 13 

and most illustrious burghers. The narrator was a pleasant, 
shabby, gentlemanly old fellow in pepper-and-salt clothes, with 
a sadly humorous face; and one whom I strongly suspected of 
being poor, — he made such efforts to be entertaining. When his 
story was concluded there was much laughter and approbation, 
particularly from two or three deputy aldermen, who had been 
asleep the greater part of the time. There was, however, one 
tall, dry-looking old gentleman, with beetling eyebrows, who 
maintained a grave and rather severe face throughout; now 
and then folding his arms, inclining his head, and looking down 
upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over in his mind. He was 
one of your wary men, who never laugh but upon good grounds 
— when they have reason and the law on their side. When the 
mirth of the rest of the company had subsided, and silence was 
restored, he leaned one arm on the elbow of his chair, and sticking 
the other akimbo, demanded, with a slight but exceedingly sage 
motion of the head, and contraction of the brow, what was the 
moral of the story, and what it went to prove. 

The story-teller, who was just putting a glass of wine to his 
lips, as a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment, looked 
at his inquirer with an air of infinite deference, and, lowering 
the glass slowly to the table, observed that the story was intended 
most logically to prove : 

"That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and 
pleasures, provided we will but take a joke as we find it ; 

"That, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers is 
likely to have rough riding of it ; 

"Ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of 
a Dutch heiress is a certain step to high preferment in the state." 

The cautious old gentleman knit his brows tenfold closer after 
this explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocination of 
the syllogism; while, methought, the one in pepper-and-salt 
eyed him with something of a triumphant leer. At length he 
observed that all this was very well, but still he thought the story 
a little on the extravagant ; there were one or two points on 
which he had his doubts. 

"Faith, sir," replied the story-teller, "as to that matter, I 
don't believe one half of it myself." 

D. K. 



14 IRVING STORIES 

III. The Spectre Bridegroom 

This story also appears in The Sketch Book. Irving 
has added the following note : 

"The erudite reader, well versed in good-for-nothing 
lore, will perceive that the above Tale must have been 
suggested to the old Swiss by a little French anecdote, 
a circumstance said to have taken place at Paris." 

IV. The Adventure of My Aunt 

This story is taken from Tales of a traveler. The 
first of these tales were called Strange Stories by a 
Nervous Gentleman. The story-teller pictures himself 
as a guest at a "hunting dinner given by a worthy fox- 
hunting old Baronet, who keeps bachelor's hall in 
jovial style, in an ancient, rook-haunted family man- 
sion, in one of the middle counties," in England. The 
discussion, after dinner, turns upon the subject of 
ghosts, and the company listen to a ghost story, The 
Adventure of My Uncle, told by "an old gentleman at 
one end of the table." He is at times interrupted by 
"the inquisitive gentleman." His story reminds an- 
other guest, "the knowing gentleman, with the flexible 
nose," of an adventure once experienced by his aunt. 
This is the story here told, The Adnenture of My Aunt. 

V. Legend of the Moor's Legacy 

Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra 

These legends are found in The Alhambra, which is 
a collection of tales and essays written by Irving during 



INTRODUCTION 15 

his residence in the Alhambra, in Spain. In the first 
essay, The Journey, Irving says : 

"In the spring of 1829, the author of this work, 
whom curiosity had brought into Spain, made a ram- 
bling expedition from Seville to Granada in company 
with a friend, a member of the Russian Embassy at 
Madrid. Accident had thrown us together from dis- 
tant regions of the globe, and a similarity of taste led 
us to wander together among the romantic mountains 
of Andalusia. Should these pages meet his eye, wher- 
ever thrown by the duties of his station, whether 
mingling in the pageantry of courts, or meditating on 
the truer glories of nature, may they recall the scenes 
of our adventurous companionship, and with them the 
recollection of one, in whom neither time nor distance 
will obliterate the remembrance of his gentleness and 
worth." 

THE ALHAMBRA 

1. The Moors in Spain 

The Moors were natives of northern Africa. At 
the beginning of the eighth century they were con- 
quered by the Arabs and converted to Mohammedan- 
ism. They joined the Arabs in the invasion of Spain 
and later went there in such numbers that by the 
thirteenth century the Kingdom of Granada rose to 
great heights of splendor and power. 



1G IRVING STORIES 

2. Conquest of Granada 

In 1482, Ferdinand and Isabella, the rulers of Spain, 
entered upon a war to drive the Moors from the country. 
They were assisted in their efforts by the civil wars 
that raged in Granada. November 25, 1491, after a 
twelve months' siege, famous for heroic deeds on both 
sides, the Moorish capital fell into the hands of Ferdi- 
nand, and the Moors were driven from Spain. 

3. The Alhambra 

The Alhambra was the fortified palace of the Moorish 
kings of Granada. The first building was erected early 
in the ninth century, but most of the present structure 
dates from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. 
This fortress stands on a hill north of Granada, on a 
wide terrace. It is surrounded by a wall with thirteen 
square towers, built of red brick, which gave it the 
name "The Red Castle." Inside the early stronghold 
were beautiful gardens, a gate of justice, a watch tower, 
and finally the palace itself. 

In the sixteenth century Charles V destroyed a large 
part of it, and in the following century Philip V still 
further mutilated it. The part which now remains is 
grouped about two main oblong courts — the Court 
of the Blessing and the Court of the Lions — and 
several smaller courts, among them that of the Mosque. 
Many of the walls of the various halls are decorated 
with designs either richly painted in red, blue, black, 
or gold, or made of small colored tiles called " mosaics." 



INTRODUCTION 17 

Even in its mutilated condition the Alhambra is the 
finest example of Moorish art in Spain. 

One of the gateways of the Alhambra, the Gate of 
Justice, received its name from the fact that during 
the Moslem rule the trial of petty causes was held 
there. The porch of the gate is formed by an immense 
Arabian horseshoe arch on which are sculptured a 
gigantic hand and key. These are said to have been 
magical devices on which the fate of the Alhambra 
depended. According to tradition the fortress would 
last until the hand on the outer arch should reach 
down and grasp the key. When this occurred the 
whole pile would tumble to pieces, and all the treasures 
buried beneath it by the Moors would be revealed. 

The Square of the Cisterns is an open esplanade 
within the fortress. It was so called from the great 
reservoirs beneath it. These had been cut in the 
living rock by the Moors to receive water brought 
from the Darro, for the supply of the fortress. Here, 
also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest 
and coldest of water. 

The Tower of the Infantas was the residence of the 
daughters of Moorish kings. The legend runs that 
three Moorish princesses were shut up in this tower 
by their father, a tyrant of Granada, and only at night 
were permitted to ride out about the hills. No one 
was allowed to see them. It is said that they may 
still be seen occasionally when the moon is full, riding 
in lonely places along the mountain side; but they 
vanish on being spoken to. 



18 IRVIXa STORIES 

The Tower of the Seven Floors is an immense tower 
famous as he scene of strange apparitions and Moorish 
enchantments. In the center of this building was the 
original gate of entrance to the quarter of the palace 
where the king's body guards were stationed. It was 
through this gate that King Chico (otherwise known 
as Boabdil), the last king of the Moors, left when he 
surrendered the city with the castle to King Ferdinand 
of Spain. He asked as a special favor that no one 
afterwards might be permitted to pass through it. 
This request was granted, and the fulfillment of his 
wish was made doubly sure by Fate, for the portal 
has been closed up by loose stones from the ruins of 
the Tower and remains impassable. 

FALCONRY 

Falconry, or " hawking," as it was called in early 
days, is the art of training hawks to fly and capture 
their quarry, or prey, and to bring it back to the trainer. 

Early English kings, nobles, and ladies indulged in 
this sport, and one could tell the rank of an individual 
by the kind of hawk carried on the wrist. For example, 
the king would carry the gyrfalcon. 

The trainer would either take the young hawk from 
its nest or trap the older hawk. From the perch on 
the trainer's wrist, the bird would fly into the air. At 
first it was allowed to fly but a short distance, and 
the trainer would bring the bird back by a string 
attached to both bird and perch. Each day the 
hawk would be allowed to fly farther than before, but 
was trained to return each time. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 

A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKER- 
BOCKER 



By Woden, God of Saxons, 

From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday. 

Truth is a thing that ever I will keep 

Unto thylke day in which I creep into 

My sepulchre. 

Cartwright. 



The following tale was found among the papers of the late 
Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who 
was very curious in the Dutch history of the province, and the 
manners of the descendants from its primitive settlers. His his- 
torical researches, however, did not lie so much among books 
as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty on his 
favorite topics ; whereas he found the old burghers, and still 
more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to 
true history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine 
Dutch family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed f armho use under 
a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped vol- 
ume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book- worm. 
The result of all these researches was a history of the province 
during the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published 
some years since. There have been various opinions as to the 
literary character of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a 
whit better than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous 
accuracy, which indeed was a little questioned on its first appear- 
ance, but has since been completely established; and it is now 
admitted into all historical collections, as a book of unquestion- 
able authority. 

19 



20 IRVING STORIES 

The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his 
work, and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm 
to his memory to say that his time might have been much bet- 
ter employed in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride 
his hobby his own way ; and though it did now and then kick up 
the dust a little in the eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the spirit 
of some friends, for whom he felt the truest deference and affec- 
tion ; yet his errors and follies are remembered "more in sorrow 
than in anger," and it begins to be suspected that he never in- 
tended to injure or offend. But however his memory may be 
appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folk, whose 
good opinion is worth having ; particularly by certain biscuit- 
bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their 
new-year cakes ; and have thus given him a chance for immor- 
tality, almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal 
or a Queen Anne's Farthing. 

Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must 
remember the Kaatskill Mountains. They are a dis- 
membered branch of the great Appalachian family, 
and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling 
up to a noble height, and lording it over the surround- 
ing country. Every change of season, every change 
of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces 
some change in the magical hues and shapes of these 
mountains, and they are regarded by all the good 
wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the 
weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue 
and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear 
evening sky; but sometimes when the rest of the land- 
scape is cloudless they will gather a hood of gray 
vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of 
the Betting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of 
glory. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 21 

At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager 
may have descried the light smoke curling up from a 
village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, 
just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into 
the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little 
village of great antiquity, having been founded by 
some of the Dutch colonists in the early time of the 
province, just about the beginning of the government 
of the good Peter Stuyvesant x (may he rest in peace !), 
and there were some of the houses of the original set- 
tlers standing within a few j^ears, built of small yellow 
bricks brought from Holland, having latticed windows 
and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 

In that same village, and in one of these very houses 
(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn 
and weather-beaten), there lived many years since, 
while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, 
a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van 
Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles 
who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of 
Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege 
of Fort Christina. 2 He inherited, however, but little 
of the martial character of his ancestors. I have 
observed that he was a simple, good-natured man ; he 
was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient hen- 
pecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance 
might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained 

1 Governor of Manhattan from 1647 to 1664. 

2 A Swedish fort near Newcastle, Delaware. Captured by the 
Dutch in 1655. 



22 IRVING STORIES 

him such universal popularity; for those men are 
most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, 
who are under the discipline of shrews at home. 
Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and mal- 
leable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation ; and 
a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world 
for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. 
A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects be 
considered a tolerable blessing, and if so, Rip Van 
Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all 
the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the 
amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; 
and never failed, whenever they talked those matters 
over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame 
on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, 
too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. 
He assisted at their sports, made their playthings, 
taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told 
them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. 
Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was 
surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, 1 
clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks 
on him with impunity ; and not a dog would bark at 
him throughout the neighborhood. 

The great error in Rip's composition was an insu- 
perable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It 
could not be from the want of assiduity or persever- 
ance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as 

1 Coat-tails. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 23 

long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day 
without a murmur, even though he should not be en- 
couraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowl- 
ing-piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging 
through woods and swamps, and up hill and down 
dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He 
would never refuse to assist a neighbor, even in the 
roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country 
frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone- 
fences ; the women of the village, too, used to employ 
him to run their errands, and to do such little odd 
jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for 
them. In a word, Rip was ready to attend to any- 
body's business but his own ; but as to doing family 
duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it im- 
possible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his 
farm; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground 
in the whole country ; everything about it went wrong, 
and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences 
were continually falling to pieces ; his cow would either 
go astray or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure 
to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else; the 
rain always made a point of setting in just as he had 
some out-door work to do ; so that though his patri- 
monial estate had dwindled away under his manage- 
ment, acre by acre, until there was little more left 
than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it 
was the worst-conditioned farm in the neighborhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if 



24 IRVING STORIES 

they belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin be- 
gotten in his own likeness, promised to inherit the 
habits, with the old clothes of his father. He was 
generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother's 
heels, equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off galli- 
gaskins, 1 which he had much ado to hold up with one 
hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the 
world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can 
be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather 
starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to 
himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect 
contentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning in 
his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the 
ruin he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, 
and night her tongue was incessantly going, and every- 
thing he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of 
household eloquence. Rip had but one way of reply- 
ing to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent 
use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoul- 
ders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said noth- 
ing. This, however, always provoked a fresh volley 
from his wife; so that he was fain to draw off his 
forces, and take to the outside of the house — the only 
side which, in truth, belongs to a henpecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who 
was as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van 
Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and 

1 Wide I rousers 



RIP VAN WINKLE 25 

even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause 
of his master's going so often astray. True it is, in 
all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was 
as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods — 
but what courage can withstand the ever-during and 
all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue? The mo- 
ment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail 
drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he 
sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a side- 
long glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least 
nourish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the 
door with yelping precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle 
as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never 
mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged 
tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long 
while he used to console himself, when driven from 
home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the 
sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the 
village : which held its sessions on a bench before a 
small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His 
Majesty George the Third. 1 Here they used to sit in 
the shade through a long lazy summer's day, talking 
listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy 
stories about nothing. But it would have been worth 
any statesman's money to have heard the profound dis- 
cussions that sometimes took place, when by chance an 
old newspaper fell into their hands from some passing 
traveler. How solemnly they would listen to the con- 

1 King of England from 1760 to 1820. 



26 IRVING STORIES 

tents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the 
school-master, a dapper learned little man, who was 
not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the 
dictionary ; and how sagely they would deliberate upon 
public events some months after they had taken place. 

The opinions of this junto l were completely con- 
trolled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, 
and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took 
his seat from morning till night, just moving suf- 
ficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a 
large tree ; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by 
his movements as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is 
true he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe 
incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great 
man has his adherents), perfectly understood him, and 
knew how to gather his opinions. When anything 
that was read or related displeased him, he was ob- 
served to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth 
short, frequent and angry puffs ; but when pleased, he 
would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and 
emit it in light and placid clouds ; and sometimes, tak- 
ing the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant 
vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head 
in token of perfect approbation. 

From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at 
length routed by his termagant wife, who would sud- 
denly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage 
and call the members all to naught; nor was that 
august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred 

1 Council. 



RIP VAX WINKLE 27 

from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, who 
charged him outright with encouraging her husband in 
habits of idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; 
and his only alternative, to escape from the labor of 
the farm and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in 
hand and stroll away into the woods. Here he would 
sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share 
the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he 
sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. "Poor 
Wolf," he would say, "thy mistress leads thee a dog's 
life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou 
shalt never want a friend to stand by thee!" Wolf 
would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, 
and if dogs can feel pity I verily believe he recipro- 
cated the sentiment with all his heart. 

In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal 
day, Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the 
highest parts of the Kaatskill Mountains. He was 
after his favorite sport of squirrel shooting, and the 
still solitudes had echoed and reechoed with the re- 
ports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw 
himself, late in the afternoon, on a green knoll, cov- 
ered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow 
of a precipice. From an opening between the trees 
he could overlook all the lower country for many a 
mile of rich w T oodland. He saw at a distance the 
lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent 
but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple 
cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there 



28 IRVING STORIES 

sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in 
the blue highlands. 

On the other side he looked down into a deep moun- 
tain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled 
with fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely 
lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For 
some time Rip lay musing on this scene ; evening was 
gradually advancing; the mountains began to throw 
their long blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw that 
it would be dark long before he could reach the village, 
and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of en- 
countering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. 

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from 
a distance, hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van 
Winkle !" He looked round, but could see nothing 
but a crow winging its solitary flight across the moun- 
tain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, 
and turned again to descend, when he heard the same 
cry ring through the still evening air: "Rip Van 
Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle !" — at the same time Wolf 
bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked 
to his master's side, looking fearfully down into the 
glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing 
over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction, 
and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the 
rocks, and bending under the weight of something he 
carried on his back. He was surprised to see any 
human being in this lonely and unfrequented place ; 
but supposing it to be some one of the neighborhood 
in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 29 

On nearer approach ne was still more surprised at 
the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was 
a short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, 
and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique 
Dutch fashion : a cloth jerkin 1 strapped round the 
waist, several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample 
volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the 
sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his 
shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and 
made signs for Rip to approach and assist him with 
the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this 
new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alac- 
rity; and mutually relieving one another, they clam- 
bered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a 
mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now 
and then heard long rolling peals like distant thunder, 
that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather 
cleft, between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged 
path conducted. He paused for a moment, but sup- 
posing it to be the muttering of one of those transient 
thunder-showers which often take place in mountain 
heights, he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, 
they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheater, sur- 
rounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks 
of which impending trees shot their branches, so that 
you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the 
bright evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and 
his companion had labored on in silence; for though 
the former marveled greatly what could be the object 

1 A close or tight fitting jacket. 



30 . IRVING STORIES 

of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet 
there was something strange and incomprehensible 
about the unknown, that inspired awe and checked 
familiarity. 

On entering the amphitheater, new objects of wonder 
presented themselves. On a level spot in the center 
was a company of odd-looking personages playing at 
ninepins. They were dressed in a quaint outlandish 
fashion ; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with 
long knives in their belts, and most of them had enor- 
mous breeches of similar style with that of the guide's. 
Their visages, too, were peculiar; one had a large 
beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes ; the face of 
another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was 
surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a 
little red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various 
shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be 
the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with 
a weather-beaten countenance ; he wore a laced doub- 
let, broad belt and hanger, 1 high-crowned hat and 
feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with 
roses 2 in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the 
figures in an old Flemish painting in the parlor of 
Dominie 3 Van Shaick, the village parson, which had 
been brought over from Holland at the time of the 
settlement. 

What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that 
though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, 

1 Sword, curved at the point. 2 Rosettes. 

1 A parson or master. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 31 

yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mys- 
terious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy 
party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing 
interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of 
the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed/ 
along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. 

As Rip and his companion approached them, they 
suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him 
with such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, un- 
couth, lack-luster countenances, that his heart turned 
within him, and his knees smote together. His com- 
panion now emptied the contents of the keg into large 
flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the com- 
pany. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they 
quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then re- 
turned to their game. 

By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. 
He even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to 
taste the beverage, which he found had much of the 
flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a 
thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the 
draught. One taste provoked another ; and he reiter- 
ated his visits to the flagon so often that at length his 
senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, 
his head gradually declined, and he fell into a deep 
sleep. 

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll 
whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He 
rubbed his eyes — it was a bright, sunny morning. 
The birds were hopping and twittering among the 



32 IRVING STORIES 

bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breast- 
ing the pure mountain breeze. " Surely," thought 
Rip, "I have not slept here all night." He recalled 
the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange 
man with the keg of liquor — the mountain ravine — 
the wild retreat among the rocks — the woe-begone 
party at ninepins — the flagon — "Oh! that flagon! 
that wicked flagon!" thought Rip — "what excuse 
shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?" 

He looked round for his gun, but in place of the 
clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old fire- 
lock lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the 
lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now 
suspected that the grave roisterers x of the mountain had 
put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liq- 
uor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had dis- 
appeared, but he might have strayed away after a 
squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, and 
shouted his name, but all in vain ; the echoes repeated 
his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. 

He determined to revisit the scene of the last even- 
ing's gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to 
demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he 
found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his 
usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree 
with me," thought Rip, "and if this frolic should lay 
me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a 
blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." With some 
difficulty he got down into the glen; he found the 

1 Players or gamesters. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 33 

gully up which he and his companion had ascended 
the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a 
mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping 
from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling 
murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its 
sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of 
birch, sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimes 
tripped up or entangled by the wild grapevines that 
twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and 
spread a kind of network in his path. 

At length he reached to where the ravine had 
opened through the cliffs to the amphitheater ; but no 
traces of such opening remained. The rocks presented 
a high, impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came 
tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a 
broad, deep basin, black from the shadows of the sur- 
rounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought 
to a stand. He again called and whistled after his 
dog; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock 
of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree 
that overhung a sunny precipice ; and who, secure in 
their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the 
poor man's perplexities. What was to be done? the 
morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for 
want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog 
and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would 
not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his 
head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart 
full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps home- 
ward. 



34 IRVING STORIES 

As he approached the village he met a number of 
people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat sur- 
prised him, for he had thought himself acquainted 
with every one in the country round. Their dress, 
too, was of a different fashion from that to which he 
was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal 
marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes 
upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The con- 
stant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involun- 
tarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he 
found his beard had grown a foot long ! 

He had now T entered the skirts of the village. A 
troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting 
after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, 
too, not one of which he recognized for an old ac- 
quaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very 
village was altered ; it was larger and more populous. 
There were rows of houses which he had never seen 
before, and those which had been his familiar haunts 
had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors 
— strange faces at the windows, — everything was 
strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to 
doubt whether both he and the world around him 
were not bewitched. Surely this was his native vil- 
lage, which he had left but the day before. There 
stood the Kaatskill Mountains — there ran the silver 
Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and dale 
precisely as it had always been — Rip was sorely per- 
plexed — "That flagon last night," thought he, "has 
addled my poor head sadly !" 




Joseph Jefferson 
In the Character of Rip 



RIP VAN WINKLE 35 

It was with some difficulty that he found the way 
to his own house, which he approached with silent 
awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice 
of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to 
decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, 
and the doors off the hinges. A half -starved dog that 
looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called 
him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, 
and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed — 
"My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me !" 

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame 
Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was 
empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This 
desolateness overcame all his connubial fears — he 
called loudly for his wife and children — the lonely 
chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then 
again all was silence. 

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old re- 
sort, the village inn — but it, too, was gone. A large, 
rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great 
gaping windows, some of them broken and mended 
with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was 
painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." 
Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet 
little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall 
naked pole, with something on the top that looked like 
a red night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on 
which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes 
— all this was strange and incomprehensible. He 
recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of 



36 IRVING STORIES 

King George, under which he had smoked so many a 
peaceful pipe; but even this was singularly metamor- 
phosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue 
and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a 
scepter, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, 
and underneath was painted in large characters, Gen- 
eral Washington. 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, 
but none that Rip recollected. The very character of 
the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bus- 
tling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accus- 
tomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in 
vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad 
face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds 
of tobacco-smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van 
Bummel, the school-master, doling forth the contents 
of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, a lean, 
bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of hand- 
bills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citi- 
zens — elections — members of congress — liberty — 
Bunker's Hill — heroes of seventy-six — and other 
words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the 
bewildered Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, 
his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army 
of women and children at his heels, soon attracted 
the attention of the tavern-politicians. They crowded 
round him, eying him from head to foot with great 
curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, draw- 
ing him partly aside, inquired "on which side he 



RIP VAN WINKLE 37 

voted?" Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another 
short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, 
and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, "Whether 
he was Federal or Democrat?" Rip was equally at 
a loss to comprehend the question; when a knowing, 
self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, 
made his way through the crowd, putting them to the 
right and left with his elbows as he passed, and plant- 
ing himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, 
the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp 
hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, de- 
manded in an austere tone, "what brought him to the 
election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his 
heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the 
village?" — "Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat 
dismayed, "I am a poor quiet man, a native of the 
place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him!" 
Here a general shout burst from the bystanders — 
"A tory! a tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! 
away with him!" It was with great difficulty that 
the self-important man in the cocked hat restored 
order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of 
brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit what 
he came there for, and whom he was seeking? The 
poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, 
but merely came there in search of some of his neigh- 
bors, who used to keep about the tavern. 
"Well — who are they? — name them." 
Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, 
"Where's Nicholas Vedder?" 



38 IRVING STORIES 

There was a silence for a little while, when an old 
man replied, in a thin, piping voice: "Nicholas Ved- 
der ! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! 
There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that 
used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone, 
too." 

" Where's Brom Dutcher?" 

"Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of 
the war; some say he was killed at the storming of 
Stony Point x — others say he was drowned in a squall 
at the foot of Antony's Nose. 2 I don't know — he 
never came back again." 

"Where's Van Bummel, the school-master?" 

"He went off to the wars too, was a great militia, 
general, and is now in Congress." 

Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes 
in his home and friends, and finding himself thus 
alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him, too, 
by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of 
matters which he could not understand: war — 
Congress — Stony Point ; he had no courage to ask 
after any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does 
nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" 

"Oh, Rip Van Winkle!" exclaimed two or three, 
"Oh, to be sure! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, lean- 
ing against the tree." 

Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of 

1 On the Hudson. Here an attack was made by Mad Anthony 
Wayne, July 15, 1779. 

- A promontory a few miles above Stonv Point. See Introduction. 



RIP VAN WINKLE 39 

himself, as he went up the mountain: apparently as 
lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was 
now completely confounded. He doubted his own 
identity, and whether he was himself or another man. 
In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the 
cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his 
name? 

"God knows," exclaimed he, at his wits' end; "I'm 
not myself — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — 
no — that's somebody else got into my shoes — I was 
myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and 
they've changed my gun, and everything's changed, 
and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or 
who I am!" 

The bystanders began now to look at each other, 
nod, wink significantly, and tap their ringers against 
their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about 
securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from 
doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the 
self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some 
precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely 
woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at 
the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her 
arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. 
"Hush, Rip," cried she, "hush, you little fool; the 
old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the 
air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened 
a train of recollections in his mind. "What is your 
name, my good woman?" asked he. 

"Judith Gardenier." 



40 IRVING STORIES 

"And your father's name?" 

"Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, 
but it's twenty years since he went away from home 
with his gun, and never has been heard of since, — 
his dog came home without him ; but whether he shot 
himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody 
can tell. I was then but a little girl." 

Rip had but one question more to ask; and he put 
it with a faltering voice : — 

" Where's your mother?" 

" Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; she 
broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New England 
peddler." 

There was a drop of comfort at least, in this intel- 
ligence. The honest man could contain himself no 
longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his 
arms. "I am your father!" cried he — "Young Rip 
Van Winkle once — old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does 
nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle? " 

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out 
from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and 
peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, 
"Sure enough it is Rip Van Winkle — it is himself! 
Welcome home again, old neighbor — Why, where 
have you been these twenty long years?" 

Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty 
years had been to him but as one night. The neigh- 
bors stared when they heard it; some were seen to 
wink at each other, and put their tongues in their 
cheeks : and the self-important man in the cocked hat, 



RIP VAN WINKLE 41 

who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the 
field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and 
shook his head — upon which there was a general 
shaking of the head throughout the assemblage. 

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of 
old Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advanc- 
ing up the road. He was a descendant of the histo- 
rian of that name, 1 who wrote one of the earliest 
accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient 
inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the 
wonderful events and traditions of the neighborhood. 
He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story 
in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the 
company that it was a fact, handed down from his 
ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Mountains 
had always been haunted by strange beings. That it 
was affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first 
discoverer of the river and country, kept a kind of 
vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the 
Half -moon ; 2 being permitted in this way to revisit the 
scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon 
the river and the great city called by his name. That 
his father had once seen them in their old Dutch 
dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow of the moun- 
tain; and that he himself had heard, one summer 
afternoon, the sound of their balls like distant peals of 
thunder. 

To make a long story short, the company broke up, 
and returned to the more important concerns of the 

1 Adrian Vanderdonck. 2 Henry Hudson's ship. 



42 IRVING STORIES 

election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with 
her ; she had a snug well-furnished house, and a stout, 
cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected 
for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his 
back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of 
himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed 
to work on the farm; but evinced an hereditary dis- 
position to attend to anything else but his business. 

Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon 
found many of his former cronies, though all rather 
the worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred 
making friends among the rising generation, with 
whom he soon grew into great favor. 

Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at 
that happy age when a man can be idle with impu- 
nity, he took his place once more on the bench at the 
inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs 
of the village, and a chronicle of the old times " before 
the war." It was some time before he could get into 
the regular track of gossip, or could be made to com- 
prehend the strange events that had taken place dur- 
ing his torpor. How that there had been a revolu- 
tionary war — that the country had thrown off the 
yoke of old England — and that, instead of being a 
subject of his Majesty George the Third, he was now 
a free citizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was 
no politician ; the changes of states and empires made 
but little impression on him; but there was one spe- 
cies of despotism under which he had long groaned, 
and that was — petticoat government. Happily that 



RIP VAN WINKLE 43 

was at an end ; he had got his neck out of the yoke of 
matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he 
pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van 
Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, how- 
ever, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and 
cast up his eyes, which might pass either for an ex- 
pression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliver- 
ance. 

He used to tell his story to every stranger that ar- 
rived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at 
first, to vary on some points every time he told it, 
which was, doubtless, owing to his having so recently 
awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale 
I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the 
neighborhood but knew it by heart. Some always 
pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that 
Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one 
point on which he always remained flighty. The old 
Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave 
it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a 
thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaats- 
kill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are 
at their game of ninepins; and it is a common wish 
of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when 
life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have 
a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. 



fi p 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY 
HOLLOW 

FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE DIEDRICH 
KNICKERBOCKER 

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was, 
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; 
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, 
Forever flushing round a summer sky. 

Castle of Indolence. 

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which 
indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad 
expansion of the river dominated by the ancient 
Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they 
always prudently shortened sail and implored the pro- 
tection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a 
small market town or rural port, which by some is 
called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and 
properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This 
name was given, we are told, in former days, by the 
good housewives of the adjacent country, from the 
inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about 
the village tavern on market days. Be that as it may, 
I do not vouch for the fact, but merely* advert to it, 
for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not far 

44 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 45 

from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a 
little valley or rather lap of land among high hills, 
which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. 
A small brook glides through it, with just murmur 
enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional 
whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker is almost 
the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform 
tranquillity. 

I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit 
in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees 
that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered 
into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly 
quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as 
it broke the Sabbath stillness around and was pro- 
longed and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever 
I should wish for a retreat whither I might steal 
from the world and its distractions, and dream quietly 
away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none 
more promising than this little valley. 

From the listless repose of the place, and the pe- 
culiar character of its inhabitants, who are descend- 
ants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered 
glen has long been known by the name of Sleepy 
Hollow, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy 
Hollow Boys throughout all the neighboring country. 
A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the 
land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say 
that the place was bewitched by a High German doc- 
tor, during the early days of the settlement; others, 
that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his 



46 IRVING STORIES 

tribe, held his powwows l there before the country was 
discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. 2 Certain it 
is, the place still continues under the sway of some 
witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of 
the good people, causing them to walk in a continual 
reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvelous 
beliefs; are subject to trances and visions, and fre- 
quently see strange sights, and hear music and voices 
in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with 
local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; 
stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley 
than in any other part of the country, and the night- 
mare, with her whole ninefold, 3 seems to make it the 
favorite scene of her gambols. 

The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this 
enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief 
of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure 
on horseback, without a head. It is said by some 
to be the ghost of a Hessian 4 trooper, whose head had 
been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless 
battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever 
and anon seen by the country folk hurrying along in 
the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. 
His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend 
at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the 
vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, 

1 Councils. 2 A distinguished English navigator. 

3 "He met the nightmare and her ninefold." — King Lear, 
Act III, Sc. 4. 

1 Hired German soldiers brought to America by the British to 
Bghi against the American troops. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 47 

certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, 
who have been careful in collecting and collating the 
floating facts concerning this specter, allege that the 
body of the trooper having been buried in the church- 
yard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in 
nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speed 
with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, 
like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, 
and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before 
daybreak. 

Such is the general purport of this legendary super- 
stition, which has furnished materials for many a wild 
story in that region of shadows; and the specter is 
known at all the country firesides, by the name of the 
Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. 

It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I 
have mentioned is not confined to the native inhab- 
itants of the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by 
every one who resides there for a time. However wide 
awake they may have been before they entered that 
sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale 
the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow 
imaginative, to dream dreams, and see apparitions. 

I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud; 
for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found 
here and there embosomed in the great State of New 
York, that population, manners, and customs remain 
fixed, while the great torrent of migration and im- 
provement, which is making such incessant changes 
in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by them 



48 IRVING STORIES 

unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still 
water, which border a rapid stream, where we may see 
the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or 
slowly revolving in their mimic harbor, undisturbed 
by the rush of the passing current. Though many 
years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of 
Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should not 
still find the same trees and the same families vege- 
tating in its sheltered bosom. 

In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote 
period of American history, that is to say, some thirty 
years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod 
Crane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, "tar- 
ried," in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing 
the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Con- 
necticut, a State which supplies the Union with pio- 
neers for the mind as well as for the forest, and sends 
forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and coun- 
try schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not 
inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceed- 
ingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, 
hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that 
might have served for shovels, and his whole frame 
most loosely hung together. His head was small, and 
flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, 
and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather- 
cock perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way 
the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile 
of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and 
fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 49 

the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or 
some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. 

His schoolhouse was a low building of one large 
room, rudely constructed of logs ; the windows partly 
glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copy- 
books. It was most ingeniously secured at vacant 
hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and 
stakes set against the window shutters ; so that though 
a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find 
some embarrassment in getting out, — an idea most 
probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Hou- 
ten, from the mystery of an eelpot. 1 The schoolhouse 
stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at 
the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close 
by, and a formidable birch-tree growing at one end of 
it. From hence the low murmur of his pupils' voices, 
conning over their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy 
summer's day, like the hum of a beehive ; interrupted 
now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, 
in the tone of menace or command ; or, per adventure, 
by the appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some 
tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge. 
Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, and ever 
bore in mind the golden maxim, " Spare the rod and 
spoil the child." 2 Ichabod Crane's scholars certainly 
were not spoiled. 

I would not have it imagined, however, that he was 
one of those cruel potentates of the school who joy 

1 A trap for catching eels. 

2 "He that spareth his rod hateth his son." — Prov. xiii. 24. 



50 IRVING STORIES 

in the smart of their subjects; on the contrary, he 
administered justice with discrimination rather than 
severity ; taking the burden off the backs of the weak, 
and laying it on those of the strong. Your mere 
puny stripling, that winced at the least nourish of the 
rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the claims 
of justice were satisfied by inflicting a double portion 
on some little tough, wrong-headed, broad-skirted 
Dutch urchin, who sulked and swelled and grew 
dogged and sullen beneath the birch. All this he 
called " doing his duty by their parents"; and he 
never inflicted a chastisement without following it by 
the assurance, so consolatory to the smarting urchin, 
that " he would remember it and thank him for it the 
longest day he had to live." 

When school hours were over, he was even the com- 
panion and playmate of the larger boys ; and on holi- 
day afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones 
home, who happened to have pretty sisters, or good 
housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the 
cupboard. Indeed, it behooved him to keep on good 
terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from his 
school was small, and would have been scarcely suffi- 
cient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a 
huge feeder, and, though lank, had the dilating powers 
of an anaconda 1 ; but to help out his maintenance, he 
was, according to country custom in those parts, 
boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers 
whose children he instructed. With these he lived 
1 A reptile that kills by constriction. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 51 

successively a week at a time, thus going the rounds 
of the neighborhood, with all his worldly effects tied 
up in a cotton handkerchief. 

That all this might not be too onerous on the purses 
of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs 
of schooling a grievous burden, and schoolmasters as 
mere drones, he had various ways of rendering him- 
self both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farm- 
ers occasionally in the lighter labors of their farms, 
helped to make hay, mended the fences, took the 
horses to water, drove the cows from pasture, and 
cut wood for the winter fire. He laid aside, too, all 
the dominant dignity and absolute sway with which 
he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and be- 
came wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found 
favor in the eyes of the mothers by petting the chil- 
dren, particularly the youngest; and like the lion 
bold, which whilom so magnanimously the lamb did 
hold, 1 he would sit with a child on one knee, and rock 
a cradle with his foot for whole hours together. 

In addition to his other vocations, he was the sing- 
ing-master of the neighborhood, and picked up many 
bright shillings by instructing the young folks in 
psalmody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him 
on Sundays, to take his station in front of the church 
gallery, with a band of chosen singers; where, in his 
own mind, he completely carried away the palm from 

1 In the New England Primer, occur the following lines : 

' ' The Lion bold 
The Lamb doth hold." 



52 IRVING STORIES 

the parson. 1 Certain it is, his voice resounded far 
above all the rest of the congregation; and there are 
peculiar quavers still to be heard in that church, and 
which may even be heard half a mile off, quite to 
the opposite side of the mill pond, on a still Sunday 
morning, which are said to be legitimately descended 
from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by divers 
little makeshifts, in that ingenious way which is 
commonly denominated "by hook and by crook, " 
the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and 
was thought, by all who understood nothing of the 
labor of headwork, to have a wonderfully easy life 
of it. 

The schoolmaster is generally a man of some impor- 
tance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood ; 
being considered a kind of idle, gentlemanlike person- 
age, of vastly superior taste and accomplishments to 
the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in 
learning only to the parson. His appearance, there- 
fore, is apt to occasion some little stir at the tea-table 
of a farmhouse, and the addition of a supernumerary 
dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the pa- 
rade of a silver teapot. Our man of letters, therefore, 
was peculiarly happy in the smiles of all the coun- 
try damsels. How he would figure among them in 
the churchyard, between services on Sunday! gather- 
ing grapes for them from the wild vines that overran 
the surrounding trees ; reciting for their amusement 
all the epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, 

' Surpassed the parson in point of excellence. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 53 

with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of the 
adjacent mill pond; while the more bashful country 
bumkins hung sheepishly back, envying his superior 
elegance and address. 

From his half-itinerant life, also, he was a kind of 
traveling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local 
gossip from house to house, so that his appearance 
was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, more- 
over, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudi- 
tion, for he had read several books quite through, and 
was a perfect master of Cotton Mather's l " History of 
New England Witchcraft," in which, by the way, he 
most firmly and potently believed. 

He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewd- 
ness and simple credulity. His appetite for the mar- 
velous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally 
extraordinary; and both had been increased by his 
residence in this spell-bound region. No tale was too 
gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was 
often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the 
afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover 
bordering the little brook that whimpered by his 
school-house, and there con over old Mather's direful 
tales, until the gathering dusk of evening made the 
printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as 
he wended his way by swamp and stream and awful 
woodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be 
quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching 
hour, fluttered his excited imagination, — the moan of 

1 A celebrated theologian and writer, born in Boston in 1663. 



54 IRVING STORIES 

the whip-poor-will l from the hillside, the boding cry 
of the tree toad, that harbinger of storm, the dreary 
hooting of the screech owl, to the sudden rustling in 
the thicket of birds frightened from their roost. The 
fireflies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the dark- 
est places, now and then startled him, as one of un- 
common brightness would stream across his path; 
and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came 
winging his blundering flight against him, the poor 
varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea 
that he was struck with a witch's token. His only 
resources on such occasions, either to drown thought 
or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes; 
and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by 
their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe 
at hearing his nasal melody, "in linked sweetness 
long drawn out," 2 floating from the distant hill, or 
along the dusky road. 

Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was to 
pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as 
they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples 
roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen 
to their marvelous tales of ghosts and goblins, and 
haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted 
bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the 
headless horseman, or Galloping Hessian of the Hol- 
low, as they sometimes called him. He would delight 

1 A bird which is heard only at night and which receives its name 

from the notes of its simp;. 

2 Taken from Milton's V Allegro. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 55 

them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of 
the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in 
the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Con- 
necticut ; and would frighten them woefully with spec- 
ulations upon comets and shooting stars ; and with the 
alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, 
and that they were half the time topsy-turvy ! 

But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly 
cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was 
all of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and 
where, of course, no specter dared to show its face, it 
was dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent 
walk homewards. What fearful shapes and shadows 
beset his path, amidst the dim and ghastly glare of 
a snowy night! With what wistful look did he eye 
every trembling ray of light streaming across the 
waste fields from some distant window ! How often 
was he appalled by some shrub covered with snow, 
which, like a sheeted specter, beset his very path! 
How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the 
sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his 
feet; and dread to look over his shoulder, lest he 
should behold some uncouth being tramping close 
behind him ! and how often was he thrown into com- 
plete dismay by some rushing blast, howling among 
the trees, in the idea that it was the Galloping Hessian 
on one of his nightly scourings ! 

All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, 
phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness ; and 
though he had seen many specters in his time, and 



56 IRVING STORIES 

been more than once beset by Satan 1 in divers shapes, 
in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end 
to all these evils; and he would have passed a pleas- 
ant life of it, in spite of the Devil and all his works, 
if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes 
more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, 
and the whole race of witches put together, and that 
was — a woman. 

Among the musical disciples who assembled, one 
evening in each week, to receive his instructions in 
psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and 
only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a 
blooming lass of fresh eighteen ; plump as a partridge ; 
ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's 
peaches, and universally famed, not merely for her 
beauty, but her vast expectations. She was withal 
a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in 
her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern 
fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She 
wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which her 
great-great-grandmother had brought over from Saar- 
dam ; 2 the tempting stomacher 3 of the olden time, and 
withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the 
prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. 

Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards 
the sex ; and it is not to be wondered at, that so tempt- 

1 An allusion to the old and widespread belief that ghosts, goblins, 
and witches were the obedient subjects and emissaries of the Evil One. 

2 A village in the northern part of Holland, about five miles from 
Amsterdam. 

3 An ornamental covering for the breast. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 57 

ing a morsel soon found favor in his eyes, more es- 
pecially after he had visited her in her paternal man- 
sion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture 
of a. thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He 
seldom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts 
beyond the boundaries of his own farm; but within 
those everything was snug, happy and well-con- 
ditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth, but not 
proud of it; and piqued himself upon the hearty 
abundance, rather than the style in which he lived. 
His stronghold was situated on the banks of the Hud- 
son, in one of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks in 
which the Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. A 
great elm tree spread its broad branches over it, at 
the foot of which bubbled up a spring of the softest 
and sweetest water, in a little well formed of a bar- 
rel; and then stole sparkling away through the grass, 
to a neighboring brook, that babbled along among 
alders and dwarf willows. Hard by the farmhouse 
was a vast barn, that might have served for a church ; 
every window and crevice of which seemed bursting 
forth with the treasures of the farm; the flail was 
busily resounding within it from morning to night; 
swallows and martins skimmed twittering about the 
eaves ; and rows of pigeons, some with one eye turned 
up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads 
under their wings or buried in their bosoms, and 
others swelling, and cooing, and bowing about their 
dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek 
unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and 



58 IRVING STORIES 

abundance of their pens, from whence sallied forth, 
now and then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff 
the air. A stately squadron of snowy geese were rid- 
ing in an adjoining pond, convoying whole fleets of 
ducks; regiments of turkeys were gobbling through 
the farmyard, and Guinea fowls fretting about it, like 
ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish, discon- 
tented cry. Before the barn door strutted the gallant 
cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior and a fine 
gentleman, clapping his burnished wings and crowing 
in the pride and gladness of his heart, — sometimes 
tearing up the earth with his feet, and then gener- 
ously calling his ever-hungry family of wives and chil- 
dren to enjoy the rich morsel which he had discovered. 
The pedagogue's mouth watered as he looked upon 
this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In 
his devouring mind's eye, he pictured to himself every 
roasting-pig running about with a pudding in his 
bell} 7 , 1 and an apple in his mouth; the pigeons were 
snugly put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in 
with a coverlet of crust; the geese were swimming in 
their own gravy; and the ducks pairing cosily in 
dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent corn- 
potency of onion sauce. In the porkers he saw carved 
out the future sleek side of bacon, and juicy relishing 
bain; not a turkey but he beheld daintily trussed up, 
with its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure, a 
necklace of savory sausages ; and even bright chanti- 

1 "That roasted ox with the pudding in his belly." 2 King 
Henry IV. (II. 4. 500). 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 59 

cleer himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side dish, 
with uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter which 
his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask while living. 

As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he 
rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, 
the rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and 
Indian corn, and the orchards burdened with ruddy 
fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement of Van 
Tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to 
inherit these domains, and his imagination expanded 
with the idea, how they might be readily turned into 
cash, and the money invested in immense tracts of 
wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilderness. Nay, 
his busy fancy already realized his hopes, and pre- 
sented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole 
family of children, mounted on the top of a wagon 
loaded with household trumpery, with pots and ket- 
tles dangling beneath; and he beheld himself bestrid- 
ing a pacing mare, with a colt at her heels, setting out 
for Kentucky, Tennessee, — or the Lord knows where ! 

When he entered the house, the conquest of his 
heart was complete. It was one of those spacious 
farmhouses, with high-ridged but lowly sloping roofs, 
built in the style handed down from the first Dutch 
settlers; the low projecting eaves forming a piazza 
along the front, capable of being closed up in bad 
weather. Under this were hung flails, harness, vari- 
ous utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in the 
neighboring river. Benches were built along the sides 
for summer use; and a great spinning-wheel at one 



60 IRVING STORIES 

end, and a churn at the other, showed the various uses 
to which this important porch might be devoted. 
From this piazza the wondering Ichabod entered the 
hall, which formed the center of the mansion, and the 
place of usual residence. Here rows of resplendent 
pewter, ranged on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes. 
In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to be 
spun ; in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey * just 
from the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of 
dried apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along 
the walls, mingled with the gaud 2 of red peppers ; and 
a door left ajar gave him a peep into the best parlor, 
where the claw-footed chairs and dark mahogany 
tables shone like mirrors ; andirons, with their accom- 
panying shovel and tongs, glistened from their covert 
of asparagus tops; mock-oranges and conch-shells 
decorated the mantelpiece; strings of various-colored 
birds' eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich 
egg was hung from the center of the room, and a cor- 
ner cupboard, knowingly left open, displayed immense 
treasures of old silver and well-mended china. 

From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these 
regions of delight, the peace of his mind was at an end, 
and his only study was how to gain the affections of 
the peerless daughter of Van Tassel. In this enterprise, 
however, he had more real difficulties than generally 
Ml to the lot of a knight-errant 3 of yore, who seldom 
had anything but giants, enchanters, fiery dragons, 

1 Coarse cloth made of linen and wool. 2 Decorations. 

3 A knight in search of adventure. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 61 

and such like easily conquered adversaries, to contend 
with ; and had to make his way merely through gates 
of iron and brass, and walls of adamant to the castle 
keep, where the lady of his heart was confined; all 
which he achieved as easily as a man would carve his 
way to the center of a Christmas pie; and then the 
lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. Icha- 
bod, on the contrary, had to win his way to the heart 
of a country coquette, beset with a labyrinth of whims 
and caprices, which were forever presenting new diffi- 
culties and impediments; and he had to encounter a 
host of fearful adversaries of real flesh and blood, the 
numerous rustic admirers, who beset every portal to 
her heart, keeping a watchful and angry eye upon 
each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause 
against any new competitor. 

Among these, the most formidable was a burly, 
roaring, roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or, 
according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van 
Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rang 
with his feats of strength and hardihood. He was 
broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly 
black hair, and a bluff but not unpleasant counte- 
nance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. 
From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, 
he had received the nickname of Brom Bones, by 
which he was universally known. He was famed for 
great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as 
dexterous on horseback as a Tartar. 1 He was foremost 

1 A tribe of Central Asia, noted for their fine horsemanship. 



62 IRVING STORIES 

at all races and cock-fights ; and, with the ascendancy 
which bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, 
was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one 
side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone that 
admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He was always 
ready for either a fight or a frolic ; but had more mis- 
chief than ill-will in his composition ; and with all his 
overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of 
waggish good humor at bottom. He had three or 
four boon companions, who regarded him as their 
model, and at the head of whom he scoured the coun- 
try, attending every scene of feud or merriment for 
miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished 
by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail ; 
and when the folks at a country gathering descried 
this well-known crest at a distance, whisking about 
among a squad of hard riders, they always stood by x 
for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard 
dashing along past the farmhouses at midnight, with 
whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks ; 2 and 
the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen 
for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, 
and then exclaim, "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and 
his gang!" The neighbors looked upon him with a 
mixture of awe, admiration, and good-will ; and, when 
any madcap prank or rustic brawl occurred in the 
vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted 
Brom Bones was at the bottom of it. 

1 Prepared. 

" A warlike Russian tribe who settled on the River Don. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 63 

This rantipole x hero had for some time singled out 
the blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth 
gallantries, and though his amorous toyings were 
something like the gentle caresses and endearments of 
a bear, yet it was whispered that she did not alto- 
gether discourage his hopes. Certain it is, his ad- 
vances were signals for rival candidates to retire, who 
felt no inclination to cross a lion in his amours ; inso- 
much, that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tas- 
sel's paling, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that his 
master was courting, or, as it is termed, "sparking," 
within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and car- 
ried the war into other quarters. 

Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod 
Crane had to contend, and, considering all things, a 
stouter man than he would have shrunk from the 
competition, and a wiser man would have despaired. 
He had, however, a happy mixture of pliability and 
perseverance in his nature ; he was in form and spirit 
like a supple-jack 2 — yielding, but tough ; though he 
bent, he never broke; and though he bowed beneath 
the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away — 
jerk ! — he was as erect, and carried his head as high 
as ever. 

To have taken the field openly against his rival 
would have been madness ; for he was not a man to 
be thwarted in his amours, any more than that stormy 
lover, Achilles. 3 Ichabod, therefore, made his ad- 

1 Wild or roving. 2 A flexible walking-stick. 

3 A famous Greek warrior of the Trojan War. 



64 IRVING STORIES 

vances in a quiet and gently insinuating manner. 
Under cover of his character of singing-master, he 
made frequent visits at the farmhouse; not that he 
had anything to apprehend from the meddlesome inter- 
ference of parents, which is so often a stumbling-block 
in the path of lovers. Bait Van Tassel was an easy, 
indulgent soul; he loved his daughter better even 
than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an 
excellent father, let her have her way in everything. 
His notable little wife, too, had enough to do to attend 
to her housekeeping and manage her poultry; for, 
as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolish 
things, and must be looked after, but girls can take 
care of themselves. Thus, while the busy dame 
bustled about the house, or plied her spinning-wheel 
at one end of the piazza, honest Bait would sit smok- 
ing his evening pipe at the other, watching the achieve- 
ments of a little wooden warrior, who, armed with 
a sword in each hand, was most valiantly fighting 
the wind on the pinnacle of the barn. In the mean- 
time, Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter 
by the side of the spring under the great elm, or saunter- 
ing along in the twilight, that hour so favorable to the 
lover's eloquence. 

I profess not to know how women's hearts are 
wooed and won. To me they have always been mat- 
fcers of riddle and admiration. Some seem to have 
but one vulnerable point, or door of access; while 
others have a thousand avenues, and may be captured 
in a thousand different ways. It is a great triumph 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 65 

of skill to gain the former, but a still greater proof 
of generalship to maintain possession of the latter, for 
a man must battle for his fortress at every door and 
window. He who wins a thousand common hearts is 
therefore entitled to some renown; but he who keeps 
undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette is in- 
deed a hero. Certain it is, this was not the case with 
the redoubtable Brom Bones; and from the moment 
Ichabod Crane made his advances, the interests of the 
former evidently declined : his horse was no longer 
seen tied to the palings on Sunday nights, and a deadly 
feud gradually arose between him and the preceptor 
of Sleepy Hollow. 

Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his 
nature, would fain have carried matters to open war- 
fare and have settled their pretensions to the lady, 
according to the mode of those most concise and sim- 
ple reasoners, the knights-errant of yore, — by single 
combat; but Ichabod was too conscious of the supe- 
rior might of his adversary to enter the lists against 
him; he had overheard a boast of Bones, that he 
would " double the schoolmaster up, and lay him on a 
shelf of his own schoolhouse" ; and he was too wary 
to give him an opportunity. There was something 
extremely provoking in this obstinately pacific system ; 
it left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the 
funds of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play 
off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod be- 
came the object of whimsical persecution to Bones and 
his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto 



66 IRVING STORIES 

peaceful domains, smoked out his singing-school by 
stopping up the chimney, broke into the schoolhouse 
at night, in spite of its formidable fastenings of withe 
and window stakes, and turned everything topsy-turvy, 
so that the poor schoolmaster began to think all the 
witches in the country held their meetings there. But 
what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportu- 
nities of turning him into ridicule in presence of his 
mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught to 
whine in the most ridiculous manner, and introduced 
as a rival of Ichabod's, to instruct her in psalmody. 

In this way matters went on for some time, without 
producing any material effect on the relative situa- 
tions of the contending powers. On a fine autumnal 
afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on 
the lofty stool from whence he usually watched all the 
concerns of his little literary realm. In his hand 
he swayed a ferule, that scepter of despotic power; 
the birch of justice resposed on three nails behind the 
throne, a constant terror to evil doers; while on the 
desk before him might be seen sundry contraband 
articles and prohibited weapons, detected upon the 
persons of idle urchins, such as half-munched apples, 
popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of 
rampant little paper game-cocks. Apparently there 
had been some appalling act of justice recently in- 
flicted, for his scholars were all busily intent upon 
their books, or slyly whispering behind them with one 
eye kept upon the master ; and a kind of buzzing still- 
reigned throughout the schoolroom. It was sud- 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 67 

deniy interrupted by the appearance of a negro in 
tow-cloth jacket and trousers, a round-crowned frag- 
ment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, 1 and mounted 
on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which 
he managed with a rope by way of halter. He came 
clattering up to the school-door with an invitation to 
Ichabod to attend a merry-making or "quilting- 
frolic," to be held that evening at Mynheer Van 
Tassel's; and having delivered his message with that 
air of importance and effort at fine language which 
a negro is apt to display on petty embassies of the 
kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scam- 
pering away up the Hollow, full of the importance 
and hurry of his mission. 

All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet 
schoolroom. The scholars were hurried through their 
lessons without stopping at trifles; those who were 
nimble skipped over half with impunity, and those 
who were tardy had a smart application now and then 
in the rear, to quicken their speed or help them over 
a tall word. Books were flung aside without being 
put away on the shelves, inkstands were overturned, 
benches thrown down, and the whole school was 
turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting 
forth like a legion of young imps, yelping and racket- 
ing about the green in joy at their early emancipation. 

The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra 
half hour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his 
best, and indeed only suit of rusty black, and arrang- 

1 A Roman god who presided over all commercial dealings. 



68 IRVING STORIES 

ing his locks by a bit of broken looking-glass that 
hung up in the schoolhouse. That he might make his 
appearance before his mistress in the true style of a 
cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with 
whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman 
of the name of Hans Van Ripper, and, thus gallantly 
mounted , issued forth like a knight-errant in quest 
of adventures. But it is meet I should, in the true 
spirit of romantic story, give some account of the 
looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The 
animal he bestrode was a broken-down plow-horse, 
that had outlived almost everything but its vicious- 
ness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe 1 neck, 
and a head like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail 
were tangled and knotted with burs ; one eye had lost 
its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other 
had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must 
have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge 
from the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had, in 
fact, been a favorite steed of his master's, the choleric 
Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, and had infused, 
very probably, some of his own spirit into the ani- 
mal; for, old and broken-down as he looked, there 
was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young 
filly in the country. 

Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He 
rode with short stirrups, which brought his knees 
aearly up to the pommel of the saddle; his sharp 
elbows stuck out like grasshoppers'; he carried his 

1 Thin and arched. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 69 

whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a scepter, and 
as his horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was 
not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small 
wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty 
strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of 
his black coat fluttered out almost to the horse's tail. 
Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed as 
they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, 
and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom 
to be met with in broad daylight. 

It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day ; the sky 
was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and 
golden livery which we always associate with the idea of 
abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown 
and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had 
been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, 
purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks 
began to make their appearance high in the air; the 
bark of the squirrel might be heard from the groves of 
beech and hickory-nuts, and the pensive whistle of the 
quail at intervals from the neighboring stubble field. 

The small birds were taking their farewell ban- 
quets. In the fullness of their revelry, they fluttered, 
chirping and frolicking from bush to bush, and tree 
to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety 
around them. There was the honest cockrobin, the 
favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud 
querulous note ; and the twittering blackbird flying in 
sable clouds; and the golden-winged woodpecker, 
with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, and 



70 IRVING STORIES 

splendid plumage ; and the cedar-bird, with its red- 
tipt wings and yellow-tipt tail and its little monteiro 1 
cap of feathers ; and the blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, 
in his gay light blue coat and white underclothes, 
screaming and chattering, nodding and bobbing and 
bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with 
every songster of the grove. 

As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever 
open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged 
with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. On 
all sides he beheld vast store of apples : some hanging 
in oppressive opulence on the trees; some gathered 
into baskets and barrels for the market ; others heaped 
up in rich piles for the cider-press. Farther on he 
beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden 
ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding 
out the promise of cakes and hasty-pudding; and 
the yellow pumpkins lying beneath them, turning 
up their fair round bellies to the sun, and giving ample 
prospects of the most luxurious of pies ; and anon 
he passed the fragrant buckwheat fields breathing 
the odor of the beehive, and as he beheld them, soft 
anticipations stole over his mind of dainty slap-jacks, 
well buttered, and garnished with honey or treacle, by 
the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina Van Tassel. 

Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts 

and " sugared suppositions," 2 he journeyed along the 

sides of a range of hills which look out upon some 

of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The 

1 A huntsman's or mountaineer's cap. 2 Imaginings. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 71 

sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down in the 
west. The wide bosom of the Tappan Zee lay mo- 
tionless and glassy, excepting that here and there a 
gentle undulation waved and prolonged the blue 
shadow of the distant mountain. A few amber clouds 
floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move 
them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, chang- 
ing gradually into a pure apple green, and from that 
into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting ray 
lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that 
overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth 
to the dark gray and purple of their rocky sides. A 
sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly 
down with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against 
the mast; and as the reflection of the sky gleamed 
along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was 
suspended in the air. 

It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the 
castle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged 
with the pride and flower of the adjacent country. 
Old farmers, a spare leathern-faced race, in homespun 
coats and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and 
magnificent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered 
little dames, in close crimped caps, long-waisted short- 
gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and pin- 
cushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the out- 
side. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their 
mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or 
perhaps a white frock, gave symptoms of city innova- 
tion. The sons, in short square-skirted coats, with rows 



72 IRVING STORIES 

of stupendous brass bullous, and their hair generally 
queued in the fashion of the times, especially if they 
could procure an eelskin for the purpose, it being 
esteemed throughout the country as a potent nourisher 
and strengthener of the hair. 

Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, 
having come to the gathering on his favorite steed 
Daredevil, a creature, like himself, full of mettle and 
mischief, and which no one but himself could manage. 
He was, in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, 
given to all kinds of tricks which kept the rider in 
constant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable, well- 
broken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit 

Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of 
charms that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my 
hero, as he entered the state parlor of Van Tassel's 
mansion. Not those of the bevy of buxom lasses, with 
their luxurious display of red and white ; but the 
ample charms of a genuine Dutch country tea-table, 
in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such heaped-up 
platters of cakes of various and almost indescribable 
kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives! 
There was the doughty doughnut, the tender oly- 
koek, 1 and the crisp and crumbling cruller; sweet 
cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, 
and the whole family of cakes. And then there were 
apple pies, and peach pies, and pumpkin pies; besides 
slices of ham and smoked beef; and moreover delec- 

1 Pronounced o'-li-cook, from a Dutch word that means oilcake. 
A round, fried cake made of sweetened dough. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 73 

table dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and 
pears, and quinces ; not to mention broiled shad and 
roasted chickens; together with bowls of milk and 
cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty much as 
I have enumerated them, with the motherly teapot 
sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst — 
Heaven bless the mark! I want breath and time to 
discuss this banquet as it deserves, and am too eager 
to get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was 
not in so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample 
justice to every dainty. 

He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart 
dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good 
cheer, and whose spirits rose with eating, as some 
men's do with drink. He could not help, too, rolling 
his large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with 
the possibility that he might one day be lord of all 
this scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splen- 
dor. Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his back 
upon the old school-house ; snap his fingers in the 
face of Hans Van Ripper, and every other niggardly 
patron, and kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors 
that should dare to call him comrade ! 

Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his 
guests with a face dilated with content and good- 
humor, round and jolly as the harvest moon.. His 
hospitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being 
confined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, 
a loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to "fall to ; and 
help themselves." 



74 IRVING STORIES 

And now the sound of the music from the common 
room, or hall, summoned to the dance. The musician 
was an old gray-headed negro, who had been the itin- 
erant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than 
half a century. His instrument was as old and bat- 
tered as himself. The greater part of the time he 
scraped on two or three strings, accompanying every 
movement of the bow with a motion of the head ; bow- 
ing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot 
whenever a fresh couple were to start. 

Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much 
as upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fiber 
about him was idle ; and to have seen his loosely hung 
frame in full motion, and clattering about the room, 
you would have thought St. Vitus himself, that blessed 
patron of the dance, was figuring before you in person. 
He was the admiration of all the negroes ; who, having 
gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the 
neighborhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining 
black faces at every door and window; gazing with 
delight at the scene; rolling their white eye-balls, 
and showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. 
How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than 
animated and joyous? The lady of his heart was 
his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in 
reply to all his amorous oglings; while Brom Bones, 
sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding 
by himself in one .corner. 

When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was at- 
tracted to a knot of the sager folks, who, with Old Van 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 75 

Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the piazza, gossip- 
ing over former times, and drawing out long stories 
about the war. 

This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speak- 
ing, was one of those highly favored places which 
abound with chronicle and great men. The British 
and American line had run near it during the war; 
it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding, and 
infested with refugees, cow-boys, and all kinds of 
border chivalry. Just sufficient time had elapsed to 
enable each story-teller to dress up his tale with ' a 
little becoming fiction, and, in the indistinctness of 
his recollection, to make himself the hero of every 
exploit. 

There was the story of Doffue Martling, a large 
blue-bearded Dutchman, who had nearly taken a 
British frigate with an old iron nine-pounder from a 
mud breastwork, only that his gun burst at the sixth 
discharge. And there was an old gentleman who 
shall be nameless, being too rich a mynheer 1 to be 
lightly mentioned, who, in the battle of White Plains, 2 
being an excellent master of defense, parried a mus- 
ket-ball with a small-sword, insomuch that he abso- 
lutely felt it whiz round the blade, and glance off at 
the hilt; in proof of which he was ready at any time 
to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent. There 
were several more that had been equally great in the 

1 Pronounced mln-har'. Sir, or gentleman. 

2 A small town northeast of New York City, where the British 
were compelled to retreat into New Jersey (1776). 



76 IRVING STORIES 

field, not one of whom but was persuaded that he had 
a considerable hand in bringing the war to a happy 
termination. 

But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts 
and apparitions that succeeded. The neighborhood is 
rich in legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales 
and superstitions thrive best in these sheltered, long 
settled retreats; but are trampled under foot by the 
shifting throng that forms the population of most of 
our country places. Besides, there is no encourage- 
ment for ghosts in most of our villages, for they have 
scarcely had time to finish their first nap and turn 
themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends 
have traveled away from the neighborhood ; so that 
when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, 
they have no acquaintance left to call upon. This is 
perhaps the reason wiry w T e so seldom hear of ghosts 
except in our long-established Dutch communities. 

The immediate cause, how T ever, of the prevalence 
of supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless 
owing to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a 
contagion in the very air that blew from that haunted 
region; it breathed forth an atmosphere of dreams 
and fancies infecting all the land. Several of the 
Sleepy Hollow people were present at Van Tassel's, 
and, as usual, were doling out their w T ild and wonder- 
ful legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral 
trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and 
seen about the great tree where the unfortunate Major 
Andre was taken, and which stood in the neighbor- 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 77 

hood. Some mention was made also of the woman in 
white, that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and 
was often heard to shriek on winter nights before a 
storm, having perished there in the snow. The chief 
part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite 
specter of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, 
who had been heard several times of late, patrolling 
the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse 
nightly among the graves in the churchyard. 

The sequestered situation of this church seems 
always to have made it a favorite haunt of troubled 
spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust- 
trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent 
whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian 
purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A 
gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of 
water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps 
may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To 
look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams 
seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at 
least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of 
the church extends a wide woody dell, along which 
raves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks 
of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, 
not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden 
bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, 
were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast 
a gloom about it, even in the daytime ; but occasioned 
a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the 
favorite haunts of the Headless Horseman, and the 



78 IRVING STORIES 

place where he was most frequently encountered. 
The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most heretical 
disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the Horseman re- 
turning from his foray x into Sleepy Hollow, and was 
obliged to get up behind him ; how they galloped over 
bush and brake, over hill and swamp, until they 
reached the bridge ; when the Horseman suddenly 
turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the 
brook, and sprang away over the tree-tops with a clap 
of thunder. 

This story was immediately matched by a thrice 
marvelous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light 
of the Galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey. He 
affirmed that on returning one night from the neigh- 
boring village of Sing Sing, he had been overtaken by 
this midnight trooper; that he had offered to race 
with him for a bowl of punch, and should have won it 
too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but 
just as they came to the church bridge, the Hessian 
bolted, and vanished in a flash of fire. 

All these tales, told in that drowsy undertone with 
which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the 
listeners only now and then receiving a casual gleam 
from the glare of a pipe, sank deep in the mind of 
Ichabod. He repaid them in kind with large extracts 
from his invaluable author, Cotton Mather, and added 
many marvelous events that had taken place in his 
native State of Connecticut, and fearful sights which 
he had seen in his nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow. 

1 A raid. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 79 

The revel now gradual^ broke up. The old farm- 
ers gathered together their families in their wagons, 
and were heard for some time rattling along the hollow 
roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels 
mounted on pillions : behind their favorite swains, 
and their light-hearted laughter, mingling with the 
clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, 
sounding fainter and fainter, until they gradually 
died away, — and the late scene of noise and frolic 
was all silent and deserted. Ichabod only lingered 
behind, according to the custom of country lovers, to 
have a tete-a-tete 2 with the heiress ; fully convinced 
that he was now on the high road to success. What 
passed at this interview I will not pretend to say, 
for in fact I do not know. Something, however, 
I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he certainly 
sallied forth, after no very great interval, with an air 
quite desolate and chapfallen. Oh, these women ! 
these women! Could that girl have been playing off 
any of her coquettish tricks? Was her encourage- 
ment of the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure 
her conquest of his rival? Heaven only knows, not 
I ! Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole forth with the 
air of one who had been sacking a henroost, rather 
than a fair lady's heart. Without looking to the 
right or left to notice the scene of rural wealth, on 
which he had so often gloated, he went straight to the 

1 A sort of additional saddle serving as a seat for another person 
riding behind. 

2 Conversation of two persons. 



80 IRVING STORIES 

stable, and with several hearty cuffs and kicks roused 
his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable 
quarters in which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming 
of mountains of corn and oats, and whole valleys of 
timothy and clover. 

It was the very witching time of night x that Icha- 
bod, heavy-hearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travels 
homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills which 
rise above Tarry Town, and which he had traversed 
so cheerily in the afternoon. The hour was as dismal 
as himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread 
its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here 
and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at 
anchor under the land. In the dead hush of mid- 
night, he could even hear the barking of the watch- 
dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but it 
was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his 
distance from this faithful companion of man. Now 
and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, acci- 
dentally awakened, would sound far, far off, from some 
farmhouse away among the hills — but it was like a 
dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred 
near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a 
cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bull-frog 
from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfort- 
ably and turning suddenly in his bed. 

All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had 
heard in the afternoon now came crowding upon his 

1 " 'Tis now the very witching time of night 

When churchyards yawn." — Hamlet, III. 2. 406. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 81 

recollection. The night grew darker and darker; the 
stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving 
clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had 
never felt so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, 
approaching the very place where many of the scenes 
of the ghost stories had been laid. In the center of 
the road stood an enormous tulip-tree, which towered 
like a giant above all the other trees of the neighbor- 
hood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were 
gnarled and fantastic, large enough to form trunks 
for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, 
and rising again into the air. It was connected w T ith 
the tragical story of the unfortunate Andre, who had 
been taken prisoner hard by; and was universally 
known by the name of Major Andre's tree. The 
common people regarded it with a mixture of respect 
and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the fate 
of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales 
of strange sights, and doleful lamentations, told con- 
cerning it. 

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began 
to whistle ; he thought his whistle was answered ; it 
was but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry 
branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought 
he saw something white, hanging in the midst of the 
tree : he paused, and ceased whistling ; but, on looking 
more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the 
tree had been scathed by lightning, and the white 
wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan — his 
teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the saddle : 



82 IRVING STORIES 

it was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, 
as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed 
the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. 

About two hundred yards from the tree, a small 
brook crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and 
thickly-wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley's 
Swamp, A few rough logs, laid side by side, served 
for a bridge over this stream. On that side of the 
road where the brook entered the wood, a group of 
oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grape-vines, 
threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge 
was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot 
that the unfortunate Andre was captured, and under 
the covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy 
yeomen concealed who surprised him. This has 
ever since been considered a haunted stream, and 
fearful are the feelings of the school-boy who has to 
pass it alone after dark. 

As he approached the stream his heart began to 
thump ; he summoned up, however, all his resolution, 
gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and 
attempted to dash briskly across the bridge; but 
instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal 
made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against 
the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the 
delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked 
lustily with the contrary foot : it was all in vain ; his 
steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to 
the opposite side of the road into a thicket of bram- 
bles and alder-bushes. The schoolmaster now be- 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 83 

stowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of 
old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, snuffling and 
snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge, with 
a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling 
over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by 
the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Icha- 
bod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin 
of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, 
and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up 
in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to 
spring upon the traveler. 

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his 
head with terror. What was to be done? To turn 
and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance 
was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, 
which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Sum- 
moning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded 
in stammering accents, "Who are you?" He re- 
ceived no reply. He repeated his demand in a still 
more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. 
Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible 
Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with 
involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the 
shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with 
a scramble and a bound stood at once in the middle 
of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, 
yet the form of the unknown might now in some 
degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horse- 
man of large dimensions, and mounted on a black 
horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of moles- 



84 IRVING STORIES 

tation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the 
road, jogging along on the .blind side of old Gun- 
powder, who had now got over his fright and way- 
wardness. 

Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange mid- 
night companion, and bethought himself of the adven- 
ture of Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now 
quickened his steed in hopes of leaving him behind. 
The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an 
equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, 
thinking to lag behind, — the other did the same. His 
heart began to sink within him: he endeavored to 
resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove 
to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a 
stave. There was something in the moody and dogged 
silence of this pertinacious companion that was mys- 
terious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted 
for. On mounting a rising ground, which brought 
the figure of his fellow-traveler in relief against the 
sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod 
was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless ! 
but his horror was still more increased on observing 
that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, 
was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle ! 
His terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of 
kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden 
movement to give his companion the slip; but the 
specter started full jump with him. Away, then, they 
dashed through thick and thin ; stones flying and sparks 
flashing at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments 



THE LEGEXD OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 85 

fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body 
away over his horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight. 

They had now reached the road which turns off to 
Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed pos- 
sessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, made 
an opposite turn, and plunged headlong down hill to 
the left. This road leads through a sand}^ hollow, 
shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where 
it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just 
beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the 
whitewashed church. 

As yet the panic of the steed had given his un- 
skillful rider an apparent advantage in the chase ; but 
just as he had got half way through the hollow, the 
girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping 
from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and 
endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain ; and had just 
time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round 
the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he 
heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For 
a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath 
passed across his mind, — for it was his Sunday sad- 
dle ; but this was no time for petty fears ; the goblin 
was hard on his haunches ; and (unskillful rider that 
he was !) he had much ado to maintain his seat ; some- 
times slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and 
sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse's back- 
bone, with a violence that he verily feared would 
cleave him asunder. 

An opening in the trees now cheered him with the 



86 IRVING STORIES 

hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The 
wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of 
the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He 
saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the 
trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom 
Bones' ghostly competitor had disappeared. "If 
I can but reach that bridge," 1 thought Ichabod, 
"I am safe." Just then he heard the black steed 
panting and blowing close behind him ; he even fancied 
that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick 
in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge ; 
he thundered over the resounding planks ; he gained the 
opposite side ; and now Ichabod cast a look behind 
to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, 
in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw 
the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act 
of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to 
dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered 
his cranium with a tremendous crash, — he was tumbled 
headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black 
steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind. 
The next morning the old horse was found without 
his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly 
cropping the grass at his master's gate. Ichabod did 

1 It was a superstitious belief that witches could not cross the 
middle of a stream. 

"Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
And win the keystane of the brig : 
There at them thou thy tail may toss, — 
A running stream they dare not cross!" 

Burns's Tarn O'Shantcr. 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 87 

not make his appearance at breakfast; dinner-hour 
came, but no Ichabod. The bo} r s assembled at the 
schoolhouse, and strolled idly about the banks of the 
brook; but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now 
began to feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor 
Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, 
and after diligent investigation they came upon his 
traces. In one part of the road leading to the church 
was found the saddle trampled in the dirt ; the tracks 
of horses' hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evi- 
dently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, 
beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, 
where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat 
of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a 
shattered pumpkin. 

The brook was searched, but the body of the school- 
master was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, 
as executor of his estate, examined the bundle which 
contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of 
two shirts and a half ; two stocks for the neck ; a pair 
or two of worsted stockings ; an old pair of corduroy 
small-clothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes 
full of dog's-ears ; and a broken pitch-pipe. As to 
the books and furniture of the schoolhouse, they be- 
longed to the community, excepting Cotton Mather's 
History of Witchcraft, a New England Almanac, and 
a book of dreams and fortune-telling; in which last 
was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted in 
several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in 
honor of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic 



88 IRVING STORIES 

books and the poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned 
to the flames by Hans Van Ripper; who, from that 
time forward, determined to send his children no more 
to school; observing that he never knew any good 
come of this same reading and writing. Whatever 
money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had received 
his quarter's pay but a day or two before, he must have 
had about his person at the time of his disappearance. 

The mysterious event caused much speculation at 
the church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers 
and gossips were collected in the churchyard, at the 
bridge, and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin 
had been found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, 
and a whole budget of others were called to mind ; 
and when they had diligently considered them all, and 
compared them with the symptoms of the present case, 
they shook their heads, and came to the conclusion 
that Ichabod had been carried off by the Galloping 
Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobody's 
debt, nobody troubled his head any more about him ; 
the school was removed to a different quarter of the 
Hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his stead. 

It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to 
New York on a visit several years after, and from 
whom this account of the ghostly adventure was re- 
ceived, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod 
Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighbor- 
hood partly through fear of the goblin and Hans Van 
Kipper, and partly in mortification at having been sud- 
denly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed 



THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 89 

his quarters to a distant part of the country; had 
kept school and studied law at the same time; had 
been admitted to the bar ; turned politician ; election- 
eered; written for the newspaper; and finally had 
been made a justice of the ten pound court. 1 Brom 
Bones, too, who, shortly after his rival's disappear- 
ance conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to 
the altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing 
whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always 
burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pump- 
kin ; which led some to suspect that he knew more 
about the matter than he chose to tell. 

The old country wives, however, who are the best 
judges of these matters, maintain to this day that 
Ichabod was spirited away by supernatural means; 
and it is a favorite story often told about the neigh- 
borhood round the winter evening fire. The bridge 
became more than ever an object of superstitious awe ; 
and that may be the reason why the road has been 
altered of late years, so as to approach the church by 
the border of the mill pond. The schoolhouse being 
deserted soon fell to decay, and was reported to be 
haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue ; 
and the plow-boy, loitering homeward of a still sum- 
mer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, 
chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil 
solitudes of Sleepy Hollow. 

1 A court dealing with cases in which the amount of money in- 
volved is not over ten pounds. 



THE 
SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 



A TRAVELER S TALE 

He that supper for is dight, 

He lyes full cold, I trow, this night ! 

Yestreen to chamber I him led, 

This night Gray-steel has made his bed! 

Sir Eger, Sir Grahame, and Sir Gray-steel. 

On the summit of one of the heights of the Oden- 
wald, a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, 
that lies not far from the confluence of the Main 
and the Rhine, there stood, many, many years since, 
the Castle of the Baron Von Landshort. It is now 
quite fallen to decay, and almost buried among beech 
trees and dark firs; above which, however, its old 
watch tower may still be seen struggling, like the 
former possessor I have mentioned, to carry a high 
head, and look down upon a neighboring country. 

The Baron was a dry branch of the great family of 

Katzenellenbogen, 1 and inherited the relics of the 

property, and all the pride, of his ancestors. Though 

the warlike disposition of his predecessors had much 

1 Meaning cat's elbow. Irving says the family name was given 
" in compliment to a peerless dame of the family, celebrated for a 
fine arm." 

90 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 91 

impaired the family possessions, yet the Baron still 
endeavored to keep up some show of former state. 
The times were peaceable, and the German nobles, 
in general, had abandoned their inconvenient old 
castles, perched like eagles' nests among the moun- 
tains, and had built more convenient residences in 
the valleys; still the Baron remained proudly drawn 
up in his little fortress, cherishing with hereditary 
firmness all the old family feuds ; so that he was on 
ill terms with some of his nearest neighbors, on ac- 
count of disputes that had happened between their 
great-great-grandfathers. 

The Baron had but one child, a daughter; but 
Nature, when she grants but one child, always com- 
pensates by making it a prodigy; and so it was with 
the daughter of the Baron. All the nurses, gossips, 
and country cousins assured her father that she had 
not her equal for beauty in all Germany; and who 
should know better than they? She had, moreover, 
been brought up with great care, under the superin- 
tendence of two maiden aunts, who had spent some 
years of their early life at one of the little German 
courts and were skilled in all the branches of knowl- 
edge necessary to the education of a fine lady. Under 
their instructions, she became a miracle of accom- 
plishments. By the time she was eighteen she could 
embroider to admiration, and had worked whole his- 
tories of the saints in tapestry. She could read with- 
out great difficulty, and had spelled her way through 
several church legends, and almost all the chivalric 



92 IRVING STORIES 

wonders of the Heldenbuch. 1 She had even made 
considerable proficienc}^ in writing, could sign her own 
name without missing a letter, and so legibly, that 
her aunts could read it without spectacles. She ex- 
celled in making little good-for-nothing lady-like knick- 
nacks of all kinds, was versed in the most abstruse 
dancing of the day, played a number of airs on the 
harp and guitar, and knew all the tender ballads of 
the Minnielieders 2 by heart. 

Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and co- 
quettes in their younger days, were admirably calcu- 
lated to be vigilant guardians and strict censors of 
the conduct of their niece ; for there is no duenna 3 so 
rigidly prudent and decorous 4 as a superannuated 5 
coquette. She was rarely suffered out of their sight; 
never went beyond the domains of the castle, unless 
well attended, or rather well watched ; had continual 
lectures read to her about strict decorum and implicit 
obedience ; and, as to the men — pah ! she was taught 
to hold them at such distance and distrust, that, un- 
less properly authorized, she would not have cast a 
glance upon the handsomest cavalier in the world — 
no, not if he were even dying at her feet. 

1 A collection of old epic poems connected with the heroic 
legends of Germany. 

2 A name given to the lyric poets of Germany who flourished 
1170-1250. For the most part these singers were of knightly 
birth, though sometimes reigning princes and even emperors 
wrote these lyrics. Similar poets in France were called trou- 
badours. 

'■' An older woman who is employed to guard a younger one. 
date. ■'' Affected by old ago or infirmity. 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 93 

The good effects of this system were wonderfully 
apparent. The young lady was a pattern of docility 
and correctness. While others were wasting their 
sweetness in the glare of the world, and liable to be 
plucked and thrown aside by every hand, she was 
coyly blooming into fresh and lovely womanhood 
under the protection of those immaculate spinsters, 
like a rose-bud blushing forth among guardian thorns. 
Her aunts looked upon her with pride and exultation, 
and boasted that though all the other young ladies 
in the world might go astray, yet, thank Heaven, 
nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of 
Katzenellenbogen. 

But however scantily the Baron Von Landshort 
might be provided with children, his household was 
by no means a small one, for Providence had enriched 
him with abundance of poor relations. They, one 
and all, possessed the affectionate disposition com- 
mon to humble relatives; were wonderfully attached 
to the Baron, and took every possible occasion to 
come in swarms and enliven the castle. All family 
festivals were commemorated by these good people 
at the Baron's expense; and when they were filled 
with good cheer, they would declare that there was 
nothing on earth so delightful as these family meet- 
ings, these jubilees of the heart. 

The Baron, though a small man, had a large soul, 
and it swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness 
of being the greatest man in the little world about 
him. He loved to tell long stories about the stark 



94 IRVING STORIES 

old warriors whose portraits looked grimly down 
from the walls around, and he found no listeners equal 
to those who fed at his expense. He was much given 
to the marvelous, and a firm believer in all those 
supernatural tales with which every mountain and 
valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his guests 
even exceeded his own. They listened to every tale 
of wonder with open eyes and mouth, and never failed 
to be astonished, even though repeated for the hun- 
dredth time. Thus lived the Baron Von Landshort, 
the oracle of his table, the absolute monarch of his 
little territory, and happy, above all things, in the 
persuasion that he was the wisest man of the age. 

At the time of which my story treats, there was a 
great family-gathering at the castle, on an affair of 
the utmost importance : it was to receive the destined 
bridegroom of the Baron's daughter. A negotiation 
had been carried on between the father and an old 
nobleman of Bavaria, to unite the dignity of their 
houses by the marriage of their children. The pre- 
liminaries had been conducted with proper attention 
to details. The young people were betrothed with- 
out seeing each other, and the time was appointed 
for the marriage ceremony. The young Count Von 
Altenburg had been recalled from the army for the 
purpose, and was actually on his way to the Baron's 
to receive his bride. Missives had even been received 
from him, from Wurtzburg, where he was accidentally 
detained, mentioning the day and hour when he might 
be expected to arrive. 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 95 

The castle was in a tumult of preparation to give 
him a suitable welcome. The fair bride had been 
decked out with uncommon care. The two aunts 
had superintended her toilet, and quarreled the whole 
morning about every article of her dress. The young 
lady had taken advantage of their contest to follow 
the bent of her own taste, and fortunately it was a 
good one. She looked as lovely as youthful bride- 
groom could desire, and the flutter of expectation 
heightened the luster of her charms. 

The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the 
gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then 
lost in reverie, all betrayed the soft tumult that was 
going on in her little heart. The aunts were con- 
tinually hovering around her, for maiden aunts are 
apt to take great interest in affairs of this nature. 
They were giving her a world of staid counsel how to 
deport herself, what to say, and in what manner to 
receive the expected lover. 

The Baron was no less busied in preparations. He 
had, in truth, nothing exactly to do ; but he was nat- 
urally a fuming, bustling little man, and could not 
remain passive when all the world was in a hurry. 
He worried from top to bottom of the castle, with an 
air of infinite anxiety ; he continually called the serv- 
ants from their work to exhort them to be diligent; 
and buzzed about every hall and chamber, as idly 
restless and importunate as a blue-bottle fly of a warm 
summer's day. 

In the mean time, the fatted calf l had been killed ; 



96 IRVING STORIES 

the forests had rung with the clamor of the huntsmen ; 
the kitchen was crowded with good cheer; and the 
cellars had yielded up whole oceans of wine. Every- 
thing was ready to receive the distinguished guest in 
the true spirit of German hospitality — but the guest 
delayed to make his appearance. Hour rolled after 
hour. The sun that had poured his downward rays 
upon the rich forests of the Odenwald, 2 now just 
gleamed along the summits of the mountains. The 
Baron mounted the highest tower, and strained his 
eyes in hopes of catching a distant sight of the Count 
and his attendants. Once he thought he beheld 
them; the sound of horns came floating from the 
valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes; a number 
of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing 
along the road ; but when they had nearly reached 
the foot of the mountain, they suddenly struck off in 
a different direction. The last ray of sunshine de- 
parted, the bats began to flit by in the twilight, the 
road grew dimmer and dimmer to the view, and 
nothing appeared stirring in it, but now and then a 
peasant lagging homeward from his labor. 

While the old castle of Landshort was in this state 
of perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting 
in a, different part of the Odenwald. 

The young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly 

pursuing his route in that sober jog-trot way in which 

1 A reference to the Bible story of the prodigal son in which 
the " fatted calf " was killed in honor of the son's homecoming. 

mountain region in south Germany, famous for its' many 
beautiful valleys and high peaks. 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 97 

a man travels toward matrimony when his friends 
have taken all the trouble and uncertainty of court- 
ship off his hands, and a bride is waiting for him, as 
certainly as a dinner, at the end of his journey. He 
had encountered at Wurtzburg a youthful companion 
in arms, with whom he had seen some service on the 
frontiers, — Herman Von Starkenfaust, one of the 
stoutest hands and worthiest hearts of German chivalry, 
who was now returning from the army. His father's 
castle was not far distant from the old fortress of 
Landshort, although a hereditary feud rendered the 
families hostile, and strangers to each other. 

In the warm-hearted moment of recognition, the 
young friends related all their past adventures and 
fortunes, and the Count gave the wiiole history of 
his intended nuptials with a young lady whom he had 
never seen, but of whose charms he hacj received the 
most enrapturing descriptions. 

As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, 
they agreed to perform the rest of their journey to- 
gether; and that they might do it more leisurely, set 
off from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the Count having 
given directions for his retinue to follow and overtake 
him. 

They passed the time with recollections of their 
military scenes and adventures; but the Count was 
apt to be a little tedious, now and then, about the 
reputed charms of his bride, and the happiness that 
awaited him. 

In this way they had entered among the mountains 



98 IRVING STORIES 

of the Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most 
lonely and thickly wooded passes. It is well known 
that the forests of Germany have always been as 
much infested with robbers as its castles by spectres; 
and, at this time, the former were particularly nu- 
merous, from the hordes of disbanded soldiers wan- 
dering about the country. It will not appear extraor- 
dinary, therefore, that the cavaliers were attacked 
by a gang of these stragglers, in the midst of the forest. 
They defended themselves with bravery, but were 
nearly overpowered when the Count's retinue arrived 
to their assistance. At sight of them the robbers fled, 
but not until the Count had received a mortal wound. 
He was slowly and carefully conveyed back to the city 
of Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned from a neigh- 
boring convent, who was famous for his skill in ad- 
ministering to both soul and body. But half of his 
skill was superfluous ; the moments of the unfortunate 
Count were numbered. 

With his dying breath he entreated his friend to 
repair instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain 
the fatal cause of his not keeping his appointment with 
his bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he 
was one of the most punctilious 1 of men, and appeared 
most anxious that this mission should be speedily and 
courteously executed. 

"Unless this is done," said he, "I shall not sleep 
quietly in my grave !" 

He repeated these last words with peculiar solemnity. 
1 Exact in the matter of conduct, etiquette, or duty. 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 99 

A request, at a moment so impressive, admitted no 
hesitation. Starkenfaust endeavored to soothe him to 
calmness, promised faithfully to execute his wish, and 
gave him his hand in solemn pledge. The dying man 
pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed into 
delirium — raved about his bride — his engagements 
— his plighted word ; ordered his horse, that he might 
ride to the castle of Landshort, and expired in the 
fancied act of vaulting into the saddle. 

Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh, and a soldier's tear 
on the untimely fate of his comrade ; and then pon- 
dered on the awkward mission he had undertaken. 
His heart was heavy, and his head perplexed, for he 
was to present himself an unbidden guest among 
hostile people, and to dampen their festivity with 
tidings fatal to their hopes. Still there were certain 
whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this far- 
famed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously 
shut up from the world; or he was a passionate 
admirer of the sex, and there was a dash of enterprise 
in his character that made him fond of all singular 
adventure. 

Previous to his departure, he made all due arrange- 
ments with the holy fraternity of the convent for the 
funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried 
in the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illus- 
trious relatives ; and the mourning retinue * of the 
Count took charge of his remains. 

It is now high time that we should return to the 
1 Train of attendants 



100 IRVING STORIES 

ancient family of Katzenellenbogen, who were im- 
patient for their guest, and still more for their dinner ; 
and to the worthy little Baron, whom we left airing 
himself on the watch-tower. 

Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The 
Baron descended from the tower in despair. The 
banquet, which had been delayed from hour to hour, 
could no longer be postponed. The meats were al- 
ready overdone, the cook in an agony, and the whole 
household had the look of a garrison that had been 
reduced by famine. The Baron was obliged reluc- 
tantly to give orders for the feast without the presence 
of the guest. All were seated at table and just on the 
point of commencing, when the sound of a horn from 
without the gate gave notice of the approach of a 
stranger. Another long blast filled the old courts of 
the castle with its echoes, and was answered by the 
warder from the walls. The Baron hastened to receive 
his future son-in-law. 

The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger 
was before the gate. He was a tall, gallant cavalier, 
mounted on a black steed. His countenance was pale, 
but he had a beaming, romantic eye, and an air of 
stately melancholy. The Baron was a little mortified 
that he should have come in this simple, solitary style. 
His dignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt dis- 
posed to consider it a want of proper respect for the 
important occasion and the important family with 
which he was to be connected. He pacified himself, 
however, with the conclusion that it must have been 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 101 

youthful impatience which had induced him thus to 
spur on sooner than his attendants. 

"lam sorry," said the stranger, " to break in upon 
you thus unseasonably — " 

Here the Baron interrupted him with a world of 
compliments and greetings; for, to tell the truth, he 
prided himself upon his courtesy and his eloquence. 
The stranger attempted, once or twice, to stem the 
torrent of words, but in vain; so he bowed his head 
and suffered it to flow on. By the time the Baron had 
come to a pause, they had reached the inner court of 
the castle ; and the stranger was again about to speak, 
when he was once more interrupted by the appearance 
of the female part of the family, leading forth the 
shrinking and blushing bride. He gazed on her for a 
moment as one entranced ; it seemed as if his whole 
soul beamed forth in the gaze, and rested upon that 
lovely form. One of the maiden aunts whispered 
something in her ear; she made an effort to speak; 
her moist blue eye was timidly raised, gave a shy 
glance of inquiry on the stranger, and was cast again 
to the ground. The words died away ; but there was 
a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft dimpling 
of the cheek, that showed her glance had not been un- 
satisfactory. It was impossible for a girl of the fond 
age of eighteen not to be pleased with so gallant a 
cavalier. 

The late hour at which the guest had arrived left 
no time for parley. The Baron was peremptory, 1 and 
1 Stubborn, positive in his decision. 



102 IRVING STORIES 

deferred all particular conversation until the morning, 
and led the way to the untasted banquet. 

It was served up in the great hall of the castle. 
Around the walls hung the hard-favored portraits of 
the heroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen, and the 
trophies which they had gained in the field and in the 
chase. Hacked croslets, 1 splintered jousting 2 spears, 
and tattered banners, were mingled with the spoils of 
sylvan warfare. The jaws of the wolf and the tusks 
of the boar grinned horribly among cross-bows and 
battle-axes ; and a huge pair of antlers branched im- 
mediately over the head of the youthful bridegroom. 

The cavalier took but little notice of the company 
or the entertainment. He scarcely tasted the banquet, 
but seemed absorbed in admiration of his bride. He 
conversed in a low tone, that could not be overheard, 
for the language of love is never loud; but where is 
the female ear so dull that it cannot catch the softest 
whisper of the lover ? There was a mingled tenderness 
and gravity in his manner that appeared to have a 
powerful effect upon the young lady. Her color came 
and went as she listened with deep attention. Now 
and then she made some blushing reply, and when his 
eye was turned away, she would steal a sidelong glance 
at his romantic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh 
of tender happiness. It was evident that the young 
couple were completely enamored. The aunts, who 

1 Small crosses borne by heralds, as at a tournament. 
* Used in jousts, that is, combats on horseback between two 
knights carrying spears or lances. 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 103 

were deeply versed in the mysteries of the heart, de- 
clared that they had fallen in love with each other at 
first sight. 

The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for 
the guests were all blessed with those keen appetites 
that attend upon fight purses and mountain air. The 
Baron told his best and ongest stories, and never 
had he told them so well, or with such great effect. 
If there was anything marvelous, his auditors were 
lost in astonishment; and if anything witty, they 
were sure to laugh exactly in the right place. The 
Baron, it is true, like most great men, was too dig- 
nified to utter any joke but a dull one : it was always 
enforced, however, by a bumper of excellent wine; 
and even a dull joke, at one's own table, served up 
with jolly old wine, is irresistible. 

Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest main- 
tained a most singular and unseasonable gravity. 
His countenance assumed a deeper cast of dejection 
as the evening advanced, and, strange as it may ap- 
pear, even the Baron's jokes seemed only to render 
him the more melancholy. At times he was lost in 
thought, and at times there was a worried and restless 
wandering of the eye that bespoke a mind but ill at 
ease. His conversation with the bride became more 
and more earnest and mysterious. Lowering clouds 
began to steal over the fair serenity of her brow, and 
tremors to run through her tender frame. 

All this could not escape the notice of the company. 
Their gayety w T as chilled by the unaccountable gloom 



104 IRVING STORIES 

of the bridegroom ; their spirits were infected ; whispers 
and glances were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs 
and dubious shakes of the head. The song and the 
laugh grew less and less frequent: there were dreary 
pauses in the conversation, which were at length suc- 
ceeded by wild tales and supernatural legends. One 
dismal story produced another still more dismal, and 
the Baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into 
hysterics with the history of the goblin horseman that 
carried away the fair Leonora x — a dreadful, but true 
story, which has since been put into excellent verse, 
and is read and believed by all the world. 

The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound 
attention. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the 
Baron, and as the story drew to a close, began grad- 
ually to rise from his seat, growing taller and taller, 
until, in the Baron's entranced eye, he seemed almost 
to tower into a giant. The moment the tale was 
finished, he heaved a deep sigh, and took a solemn 
farewell of the company. They were all amazement. 
The Baron was perfectly thunderstruck. 

: What! going to leave the castle at midnight? 
Why, everything was prepared for his reception; a 
chamber was ready for him if he wished to retire." 

The stranger shook his head mournfully and mys- 
teriously : "I must lay my head in a different chamber 
to-night ! " 

There was something in this reply, and the tone 
in which it was uttered, that made the Baron's heart 
1 An old German ballad. 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 105 

misgive him; but he rallied his forces, and repeated 
his hospitable entreaties. The stranger shook his 
head silently, but positively, at every offer ; and wav- 
ing his farewell to the company, stalked slowly out of 
the hall. The maiden aunts were absolutely petrified ; 
the bride hung her head, and a tear stole to her eye. 

The Baron followed the stranger to the great court 
of the castle, where the black charger stood pawing 
the earth, and snorting with impatience. When they 
had reached the portal, whose deep archway was dimly 
lighted by a cresset, 1 the stranger paused, and addressed 
the Baron in a hollow tone of voice, which the vaulted 
roof rendered still more sepulchral. 2 

"Now that we are alone," said he, "I will impart 
to you the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an 
indispensable engagement — " 

" Why," said the Baron, "cannot you send some one 
in your place?" 

"It admits of no substitute — I must attend it in 
person — I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral — " 

"Ay," said the Baron, plucking up spirit, " but not 
until to-morrow — to-morrow you shall take your bride 
there." 

"No !no!" replied the stranger, with tenfold 
solemnity, " my engagement is with no bride — the 
worms ! the worms expect me ! I am a dead man — 
I have been slain by robbers — my body lies at Wurtz- 

1 An iron vessel or basket for holding oil or pitchy wood, 
mounted on a torch or hung like a lantern. It was sometimes 
called a fire-basket. 

2 Gloomy, suggestive of a tomb. 



106 IRVING STORIES 

burg — at midnight I am to be buried — the grave is 
waiting for me — I must keep my appointment!" 

He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the 
drawbridge, and the clattering of his horse's hoofs 
was lost in the whistling of the night-blast. 

The Baron returned to the hall in the utmost con- 
sternation, and related what had passed. Two ladies 
fainted outright ; others sickened at the idea of having 
banqueted with a spectre. It was the opinion of some 
that this might be the wild huntsman famous in Ger- 
man legend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of 
wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings, with 
which the good people of Germany have been so griev- 
ously harassed since time immemorial. One of the 
poor relations ventured to suggest that it might be 
some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that 
the very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord 
with so melancholy a personage. This, however, drew 
on him the indignation of the whole company, and es- 
pecially of the Baron, who looked upon him as little 
better than an infidel. 

But, whatever may have been the doubts enter- 
tained, they were completely put to an end by the 
arrival, next day, of regular missives, confirming the 
intelligence of the young Count's murder, and his 
interment in Wurtzburg cathedral. 

The dismay at the castle may well be imagined. 
The Baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests 
who had come to rejoice with him could not think of 
abandoning him in his distress. They wandered about 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 107 

the courts, or collected in groups in the hall, shaking 
their heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the 
troubles of so good a man; and sat longer than ever 
at table, and ate and drank more stoutly than ever, 
by way of keeping up their spirits. But the situation 
of the widowed bride was the most pitiable. To have 
lost a husband before she had even embraced him — 
and such a husband ! If the very spectre could be so 
gracious and noble, what must have been the living 
man ? She filled the house with lamentations. 

On the night of the second day of her widowhood, 
she had retired to her chamber, accompanied by one 
of her aunts, who insisted on sleeping with her. The 
aunt, who was one of the best tellers of ghost stories 
in all Germany, had just been recounting one of her 
longest, and had fallen asleep in the very midst of it. 
The chamber was remote, and overlooked a small 
garden. The niece lay pensively gazing at the beams 
of the rising moon, as they trembled on the leaves of 
an aspen tree before the lattice. The castle clock had 
just told midnight, when a soft strain of music stole 
up from the garden. She rose hastily from her bed, 
and stepped lightly to the window. A tall figure stood 
among the shadows of the trees. As it raised its head, 
a beam of moonlight fell upon the countenance: Heaven 
and earth ! she beheld the Spectre Bridegroom ! A loud 
shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her 
aunt, who had been awakened by the music, and had 
followed her silently to the window, fell into her arms. 
When she looked again, the spectre had disappeared. 



108 IRVING STORIES 

Of the two females, the aunt now required the most 
soothing, for she was perfectly beside herself with 
terror. As to the young lady, there was something, 
even in the spectre of her lover, that seemed endearing. 
There was still the semblance of manly beauty; and 
though the shadow of a man is but little calculated to 
satisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where the 
substance is not to be had, even that is consoling. 
The aunt declared she would never sleep in that cham- 
ber again. The niece, for once, was obstinate, and 
declared as strongly that she would sleep in no other 
in the castle. The consequence was, that she had to 
sleep in it alone; but she drew a promise from her 
aunt not to relate the story of the spectre, lest she 
should be denied the only melancholy pleasure left 
her on earth — that of inhabiting the chamber over 
which the guardian shade of her lover kept its nightly 
vigils. 

How long the good old lady would have observed 
this promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk 
of the marvelous, and there is a triumph in being the 
first to tell a frightful story. It is, however, still quoted 
in the neighborhood, as a memorable instance of fe- 
male secrecy, that she kept it to herself for a whole 
week, when she was suddenly absolved from all further 
restraint by intelligence brought to the breakfast-table 
one morning that the young lady was not to be found. 
Her room was empty — the bed had not been slept in 
— the window was open — and the bird had flown ! 

The astonishment and concern with which the in- 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 109 

telligence was received can only be imagined by those 
who have witnessed the agitation which the mishaps 
of a great man cause among his friends. Even the 
poor relations paused for a moment from the inde- 
fatigable labors of the trencher; when the aunt, who 
had at first been struck speechless, wrung her hands 
and shrieked out, "The goblin ! the goblin! she's 
carried away by the goblin !" 

In a few words she related the fearful scene of the 
garden, and concluded that the spectre must have 
carried off his bride. Two of the domestics corrob- 
orated the opinion, for they had heard the clattering 
of a horse's hoofs down the mountain about midnight, 
and had no doubt that it was the spectre on his black 
charger, bearing her away to the tomb. All present 
were struck with the direful probability, for events of 
the kind are extremely common in Germany, as many 
histories bear witness. 

What a lamentable situation was that of the poor 
Baron ! What a heart-rending dilemma for a fond 
father, and a member of the great family of Katzenellen- 
bogen ! His only daughter had either been wrapt away 
to the grave, or he was to have some wood-demon for a 
son-in-law, and, perchance, a troop of goblin grand- 
children. As usual, he was completely bewildered, and 
all the castle in an uproar. The men were ordered to 
take horse, and scour every road and path and glen of 
the Odenwald. The Baron himself had just drawn on 
his jack-boots, girded on his sword, and was about to 
mount his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, 



110 IRVING STORIES 

when he was brought to a pause by a new apparition. 
A lady was seen approaching the castle, mounted on a 
palfrey, attended by a cavalier on horseback. She 
galloped up to the gate, sprang from her horse, and, 
falling at the Baron's feet, embraced his knees. It 
was his lost daughter, and her companion — the 
Spectre Bridegroom ! The Baron was astounded. He 
looked at his daughter, then at the Spectre, and almost 
doubted the evidence of his senses. The latter, too, 
was wonderfully improved in his appearance since his 
visit to the world of spirits. His dress was splendid, 
and set off a noble figure of manly symmetry. He was 
no longer pale and melancholy. His fine countenance 
was flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in 
his large dark eye. 

The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier 
(for in truth, as you must have known all the while, 
he was no goblin) announced himself as Sir Herman 
Von Starkenfaust. He related his adventure with the 
young Count. He told how he had hastened to the 
castle to deliver the unwelcome tidings, but that the 
eloquence of the Baron had interrupted him in every 
attempt to tell his tale. How the sight of the bride 
had completely captivated him, and that to pass a few 
hours near her, he had silently suffered the mistake to 
continue. How he had been sorely perplexed in what 
way to make a decent retreat, until the Baron's goblin 
stories had suggested his strange exit. How, fearing 
the feudal hostility of the family, he had repeated his 
visits by stealth — had haunted the garden beneath 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 111 

the young lady's window — had wooed — had won — 
had borne away in triumph — and, in a word, had 
wedded the fair. 

Under any other circumstances, the Baron would 
have been inflexible; but he loved his daughter; he 
had lamented her as lost; he rejoiced to find her still 
alive ; and, though her husband was of a hostile house, 
yet, thank Heaven, he was not a goblin. There was 
something of untruth, it must be acknowledged, in the 
joke the knight had passed upon him of his being a 
dead man; but several old friends present, who had 
served in the wars, assured him that every stratagem 
was excusable in love, and that the cavalier was en- 
titled to especial privilege, having lately served as a 
trooper. 

Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The 
Baron pardoned the young couple on the spot. The 
revels at the castle were resumed. The poor relations 
overwhelmed this new member of the family with lov- 
ing kindness, — he was so gallant, so generous — and 
so rich. The aunts, it is true, were somewhat scandal- 
ized that their system of strict seclusion and passive 
obedience should be so disregarded, but attributed it 
all to their negligence in not having the windows 
grated. One of them was particularly mortified at 
having her marvelous story marred, and that the only 
spectre she had ever seen should turn out a counter- 
feit. But the niece seemed perfectly happy at having 
found him substantial flesh and blood — and so the 
story ends. 



MD 






THE ADVENTURE OE 
MY AUNT 

My aunt was a lady of large frame, strong mind, 
and great resolution; she was what might be termed 
a very manly woman. My uncle was a thin, puny 
little man, very meek and acquiescent, 1 and no match 
for my aunt. It was observed that he dwindled and 
dwindled gradually away, from the day of his marriage. 
His wife's powerful mind was too much for him; it 
wore him out. My aunt, however, took all possible 
care of him : had half the doctors in town to prescribe 
for him, made him take all their prescriptions willy 
nilly, 2 and dosed him with physic enough to cure a 
whole hospital. All was in vain. My uncle grew 
worse and worse the more dosing and nursing he under- 
went, until in the end he added another to the long 
list of matrimonial victims who have been killed with 
kindness. 

'And was it his ghost that appeared to her?" 
asked the inquisitive gentleman, who had questioned 
the former story-teller. 3 

' You shall hear," replied the narrator. " My aunt 

1 Inclined to submit readily. 

2 Whether he was willing or not. 

3 See Introduction, p. 000. 

112 



THE ADVENTURE OF MY AUNT 113 

took on mightily for the death of her poor dear hus- 
band. Perhaps she felt some compunction x at having 
given him so much physic and nursed him into his 
grave. At any rate, she did all that a widow could do 
to honor his memory. She spared no expense in either 
the quantity or quality of her mourning weeds : she 
wore a miniature of him about her neck, as large as a 
little sun dial; and she had a full-length portrait of 
him always hanging in her bed chamber. All the 
world extolled her conduct to the skies; and it was 
determined that a woman who behaved so well to the 
memory of one husband deserved soon to get another. 

It was not long after this that she went to take up 
her residence in an old country seat in Derbyshire, 2 
which had long been in the care of merely a steward 
and housekeeper. She took most of her servants with 
her, intending to make it her principal abode. The 
house stood in a lonely, wild part of the country, among 
the gray Derbyshire hills, with a murderer hanging in 
chains on a bleak height in full view. 

The servants from town were half frightened out 
of their wits at the idea of living in such a dismal, 
pagan-looking place, especially when they got together 
in the servants' hall in the evening, and compared 
notes on all the hobgoblin stories they had picked up 
in the course of the day. They were afraid to venture 
alone about the forlorn black-looking chambers. My 
lady's maid, who was troubled with nerves, declared 
she could never sleep alone in such a " gashly, rummag- 
1 Remorse. 2 A county in southern England. 



114 IRVING STORIES 

ing old building"; and the footman, who was a kind- 
hearted young fellow, did all in his power to cheer her 
up. 

My aunt herself seemed to be struck with the lonely 
appearance of the house. Before she went to bed, 
therefore, she examined well the fastenings of the 
doors and windows, locked up the plate with her own 
hands, and carried the keys, together with a little box 
of money and jewels, to her own room, for she was a 
notable woman, and always saw to all things herself. 
Having put the keys under her pillow and dismissed 
her maid, she sat by her toilet arranging her hair; 
for being, in spite of her grief for my uncle, rather a 
buxom widow, she was somewhat particular about 
her person. She sat for a little while looking at her 
face in the glass, first on one side, then on the other, 
as ladies are apt to do when they would ascertain if 
they have been in good looks ; for a roystering 1 country 
squire of the neighborhood, with whom she had flirted 
when a girl, had called that day to welcome her to the 
country. 

All of a sudden she thought she heard something 
move behind her. She looked hastily round, but 
there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but the grimly 
painted portrait of her poor dear man, which had been 
hung against the wall. She gave a heavy sigh to his 
memory, as she was accustomed to do whenever she 
spoke of him in company, and went on adjusting her 
night-dress. Her sigh was reechoed, or answered by a 
1 Blustering or swaggering. 



THE ADVENTURE OF MY AUNT 115 

long-drawn breath. She looked round again, but no 
one was to be seen. She ascribed these sounds to the 
wind, oozing through the rat holes of the old mansion ; 
and proceeded leisurely to put her hair in papers, when, 
all at once, she thought she perceived one of the eyes 
of the portrait move. 

" The back of her head being towards it ! " said the 
story-teller with the ruined head, 1 giving a knowing 
wink — "good !" 

"Yes, sir!" replied dryly the narrator, "her back 
being towards the portrait, but her eye fixed on its 
reflection in the glass." 

Well, as I was saying, she perceived one of the eyes 
of the portrait move. So strange a circumstance, as 
you may well suppose, gave her a sudden shock. To 
assure herself cautiously of the fact, she put one hand 
to her. forehead, as if rubbing it, peeped through her 
fingers, and moved the candle with the other hand. 
The light of the taper gleamed on the eye, and was 
reflected from it. She was sure it moved. Nay, 
more, it seemed to give her a wink, as she had some- 
times known her husband to do when living ! It 
struck a momentary chill to her heart, for she was a 
lone woman and felt herself fearfully situated. 

The chill was but transient. My aunt, who was 
ahnost as resolute a personage as your uncle, sir (turn- 
ing to the old story-teller), became instantly calm and 
collected. She went on adjusting her dress. She 

1 The narrator of a story preceding this. See Introduction, 
p. 14. 



116 IRVING STORIES 

even hummed a favorite air, and did not make a single 
false note. She casually overturned a dressing box ; 
took a candle and picked up the articles leisurely, one 
by one, from the floor; pursued a rolling pincushion 
that was making the best of its way under the bed; 
then opened the door, looked for an instant into the 
corridor, as if in doubt whether to go, and then walked 
quietly out. 

She hastened downstairs, ordered the servants to 
arm themselves with the first weapons that came to 
hand, placed herself at their head, and returned almost 
immediately. 

Her hastily-levied army presented a formidable 
force. The steward had a rusty blunderbuss, 1 the 
coachman a loaded whip, the footman a pair of horse 
pistols, the cook a huge chopping knife, and the butler 
a bottle in each hano\ My aunt led the van with a 
red-hot poker; and, in my opinion, she was the most 
formidable of the party. The waiting-maid brought 
up the rear, dreading to stay alone in the servants' 
hall, smelling to a broken bottle of volatile salts, and 
expressing her terror of the ghostesses. 

" Ghosts!" said my aunt resolutely. "Ill singe 
their whiskers for them !" 

They entered the chamber. All was still and un- 
disturbed as when she had left it. They approached 
the portrait of my uncle. 

"Pull me down that picture !" cried my aunt. 

A heavy groan, and a sound like the chattering of 
1 A short gun or firearm used in early days. 



THE ADVENTURE OF MY AUNT 117 

teeth, was heard from the portrait. The servants 
shrunk back. The maid uttered a faint shriek, and 
clung to the footman for support. 

" Instantly!" added my aunt, with a stamp of the 
foot. 

The picture was pulled down, and from a recess 
behind it, in which had formerly stood a clock, they 
hauled forth a round-shouldered, black-bearded varlet, 
with a knife as long as my arm, but trembling all over 
like an aspen leaf. 

"Well, and who was he? No ghost, I suppose!" 
said the inquisitive gentleman. 

" A Knight of the Post," replied the narrator, "who 
had been smitten with the worth of the wealthy widow ; 
or rather a marauding Tarquin, 1 who had stolen into 
her chamber to violate her purse and rifle her strong 
box when all the house should be asleep. In plain 
terms," continued he, " the vagabond was a loose, 
idle fellow of the neighborhood, who had once been a 
servant in the house, and had been employed to assist 
in arranging it for the reception of its mistress. He 
confessed that he had contrived his hiding-place for 
his nefarious purposes, and had borrowed an eye from 
the portrait by way of a reconnoitering 2 hole." 

"And what did they do with him — did they hang 
him?" resumed the questioner. 

"Hang him? — how could they?" exclaimed a 

1 In Roman legend a family who were expelled from Rome 
because of the misdeeds of Sextus, one of the sons. 

2 Place from which he could examine the room with his eye. 



118 IRVING STORIES 

beetle-browed barrister l with a hawk's nose. ' ' The 
offence was not capital — no robbery or assault had 
been committed — no forcible entry or breaking into 
the premises — " 

"My aunt," said the narrator, "was a woman of 
spirit, and apt to take the law into her own hands. 
She had her own notions of cleanliness also. She 
ordered the fellow to be drawn through the horse-pond 
to cleanse away all offenses, and then to be well rubbed 
down with an oaken towel." 

"And what became of him afterwards ? ' ' said the 
inquisitive gentleman. 

"I do not exactly know — I believe he was sent on 
a voyage of improvement to Botany Bay." 2 

1 Lawyer. 

2 A harbor on the east coast of Australia, the proposed site of 
an English convict settlement. It was named from the number 
of new plants found on its shore at the time of its discovery by 
Cook in 1770. 




The Alhambr, 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S 
LEGACY 

Just within the fortress of the Alhambra, in front 
of the royal palace, is a broad open esplanade, 1 called 
the Square of the Cisterns, 2 so called from being under- 
mined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight, and 
which have existed from the time of the Moors. At 
one corner of this esplanade is a Moorish well, cut 
through the living rock to a great depth, the water of 
which is cold as ice and clear as crystal. The wells 
made by the Moors are always in repute, 3 for it is well 
known what pains they took to penetrate to the purest 
and sweetest springs and fountains. The one we are 
speaking of is famous throughout Granada, insomuch 
that the water-carriers, some bearing great water jars 
on their shoulders, others driving donkeys before them, 
laden with earthen vessels, are ascending and descend- 
ing the steep woody avenues of the Alhambra from 
early dawn until a late hour of the night. 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural daj^s, 
have been noted gossiping places in hot climates ; 
and at the well in question there is a kind of perpetual 

1 A clear space between a citadel and the nearest houses of 
the town. 

2 See Introduction, p. 17. 3 Of a good reputation. 

119 



120 IRVING STORIES 

club kept up during the livelong day, by the invalids, 
old women, and other curious, do-nothing folk of the 
fortress, who sit here on the stone benches under an 
awning spread over the well to shelter the toll-gatherer 
from the sun, and dawdle over the gossip of the fortress, 
and question any water-carrier that arrives, about the 
news of the city, and make long comments on every- 
thing they hear and see. Not an hour of the day but 
loitering housewives and idle maid-servants may be 
seen, lingering with pitcher on head or in hand, to hear 
the last of the endless tattle of these worthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this 
well there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged 
little fellow, named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for 
shortness. Being a water-carrier, he was a Gallego, 
or native of Gallicia, 1 of course. 

Peregil the Gallego had begun business with merely 
a great earthen jar, which he carried upon his shoulder ; 
by degrees he rose in the world, and was enabled to 
purchase an assistant, a stout, shaggy-haired donkey. 
On each side of this his long-eared aid-de-camp, 2 in a 
kind of pannier, 3 were slung his water-jars covered 
with fig leaves to protect them from the sun. There 
was not a more industrious water-carrier in all Gra- 
nada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang 
with his cheerful voice as he trudged after his donkey, 
singing forth the usual summer note that resounds 
through the Spanish towns : 

1 A small province of Austria-Hungary. 
2 Assistant. 3 Large wicker basket. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 121 

"Who wants water — water colder than snow? 
Who wants water from the well of the Alhambra — 
cold as ice and clear as crystal? " 

When he served a customer with a sparkling glass, 
it was always with a pleasant word that caused a smile ; 
and if, perchance, it was a comely dame or dimpling 
damsel, it was always with a sly leer and a compliment 
to her beauty that was irresistible. Thus Peregil the 
Gallego was noted throughout all Granada for being 
one of the civilest, pleasantest, and happiest of mortals. 
Yet it is not he who sings loudest and jokes most that 
has the lightest heart. Under all this air of merriment, 
honest Peregil had his cares and troubles. He had a 
large family of ragged children to support, who were 
hungry and clamorous as a nest of young swallows, 
and beset him with their outcries for food whenever 
he came home of an evening. 

He had a help-mate, too, who was anything but a 
help to him. She had been a village beauty before 
marriage, noted for her skill in dancing the bolero x 
and rattling the castanets, 2 and she still retained her 
early propensities, spending the hard earnings of honest 
Peregil in frippery, 3 and laying the very donkey under 
requisition for junketing parties into the country on 
Sundays and Saints' Days, and those innumerable 
holidays which are rather more numerous in Spain 
than the days of the week. With all this she was a 

1 A lively Spanish dance. 

2 Instruments made of two small shells of ivory or hard wood 
fastened to the thumb and beaten with the middle finger. 

3 Cheap finery. 



122 IRVING STORIES 

little of a slattern, 1 something more of a lie-a-bed, and, 
above all, a gossip of the first water, neglecting house, 
household and everything else, to loiter slip-shod in 
the houses of her gossip neighbors. 

He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn 
lamb accommodates the yoke of matrimony to the 
submissive neck. Peregil bore all the heavy dispen- 
sations 2 of wife and children with as meek a spirit as 
his donkey bore the water-jars, and however he might 
shake his ears in private, never ventured to question 
the household virtues of his slattern spouse. 

He loved his children, too, even as an owl loves its 
owlets, seeing in them his own image multiplied and 
perpetuated, for they were a sturdy, long-backed, 
bandy-legged 3 little brood. The great pleasure of 
honest Peregil was, whenever he could afford himself 
a scanty holiday and had a handful of maravedies 4 to 
spare, to take the whole litter forth with him, some in 
his arms, some tugging at his skirts, and some trudging 
at his heels, and to treat them to a gambol among the 
orchards of the Vega, 5 while his wife was dancing with 
her holiday friends in the Angosturas of the Darro. 6 

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of 
the water-carriers had desisted from their toils. The 
day had been uncommonly sultry. The night was one 

Va untidy woman who is careless about her dress and her 
house. 

2 Dealings. 3 Bow-legged. 4 Spanish coins. 

alley in Spain. 
Narrow passes of the Darro River, a small stream famous in 
olden times for yielding gold. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 123 

of those delicious moonlights which tempt the in- 
habitants of those southern climes to linger in the 
open air and enjoy its tempered sweetness until after 
midnight. Customers for water were therefore still 
abroad. Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking little 
father, thought of his hungry children. 

"One more journey to the well," said he to himself, 
"to earn a good Sunday's puchero l for the little ones." 

So saying, he trudged rapidly up the steep avenue 
of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and now and 
then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel on the 
flanks of his donkey, either by way of cadence to the 
song or refreshment to the animal, for dry blows serve 
in lieu of provender in Spain for all beasts of 
burden. 

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by 
every one except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb, 
seated on the stone bench in the moonlight. Peregil 
paused at first, and regarded him with surprise, not 
unmixed with awe; but the Moor feebly beckoned 
him to approach. 

"I am faint and ill," said he; "aid me to return to 
the city, and I will pay thee double what thou couldst 
gain by thy jars of water." 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier was 
touched with compassion at the appeal of the stranger. 

"God forbid," said he, "that I should ask fee or 
reward for doing a common act of humanity." 

He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey and 

1 A common Spanish dish composed of meat and vegetables. 



124 IRVING STORIES 

set off slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so 
weak that it was necessary to hold him on the animal 
to keep him from falling to the earth. 

When they entered the city, the water-carrier de- 
manded whither he should conduct him. 

"Alas!" said the Moor, faintly, "I have neither 
home nor habitation. I am a stranger in the land. 
Suffer me to lay my head this night beneath thy roof, 
and thou shalt be amply repaid." 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled 
with an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse 
a night's shelter to a fellow-being in so forlorn a plight ; 
so he conducted the Moor to his dwelling. The chil- 
dren, who had sallied forth open-mouthed, as usual, on 
hearing the tramp of the donkey, ran back with affright 
when they beheld the turbaned stranger, and hid 
themselves behind their mother. The latter stepped 
forth intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before her brood, 
when a vagrant dog approaches. 

"What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you 
have brought home at this late hour?" 

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego ; "here is a 
poor, sick stranger, without friend or home. Wouldst 
thou turn him forth to perish in the streets?" 

The wife would still have remonstrated, for though 
she lived in a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the 
credit of her house. The little water-carrier, however, 
for once was stiff-necked and refused to bend beneath 
the yoke. He assisted the poor Moslem to alight, and 
Bpread a mat and a sheep-skin for him, on the ground, 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY 125 

in the coolest part of the house, being the only kind of 
bed that his poverty afforded. 

In a little while the Moor was seized with violent 
convulsions, which defied all the ministering skill of 
the simple water-carrier. The eye of the poor patient 
acknowledged his kindness. During an interval of 
his fits he called Peregil to his side, and addressing him 
in a low voice : 

"My end," said he, "I fear is at hand. If I die I 
bequeath you this box as a reward for your charity." 

So saying, he opened his albornoz, or cloak, and 
showed a small box of sandal wood, strapped round 
his body. 

"God grant, my friend," replied the worthy little 
Gallego, "that you may live many years to enjoy your 
treasure, whatever it may be." 

The Moor shook his head. He laid his hand upon 
the box, and would have said something more concern- 
ing it, but his convulsions returned with increased 
violence, and in a little while he expired. 

The water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. 

"This comes," said she, "of your foolish good nature, 
always running into scrapes to oblige others. What 
will become of us when this corpse is found in our 
house ? We shall be sent to prison as murderers." 

Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost 
repented himself of having done a good deed. At 
length a thought struck him. 

"It is not yet day," said he. "I can convey the 
dead body out of the city and bury it in the sands on 



126 IRVING STORIES 

the banks of the Xenil. 1 No one saw the Moor enter 
our dwelling, and no one will know anything of his 
death." 

So said, so done. The wife aided him : they rolled 
the body of the unfortunate Moslem in the mat on 
which he had expired, laid it across the donkey, and 
Peregil set out with it for the banks of the river. 

As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the 
water-carrier a barber named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of 
the most prying, tattling, mischief -making of his gossip 
tribe. He was a weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, 
supple and insinuating. The famous Barber of Seville 
could not surpass him for his universal knowledge of 
the affairs of others, and he had no more power of 
retention than a sieve. It was said that he slept with 
but one eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, 
so that even in his sleep he might see and hear all that 
was going on. Certain it is, he was a sort of scandalous 
chronicle for the quidnuncs 2 of Granada, and had 
more customers than all the rest of his fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an 
unusual hour of night, and the exclamations of his 
wife and children. His head was instantly popped 
out of a little window which served him as a lookout, 
and he saw his neighbor assist a man in a Moorish 
garb into his dwelling. This was so strange an oc- 
currence that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wink that 
night. Eveiy five minutes he was at his loop-hole, 

1 The principal river of Granada whose valley is a very garden. 

- ( rOSSipS. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 127 

watching the lights that gleamed through the chinks 
of his neighbor's door, and before daylight he beheld 
Peregil sally forth with his donkey unusually laden. 

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget. He slipped 
on his clothes, and stealing forth silently, followed the 
water-carrier at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole 
in the sandy bank of the Xenil, and bury something 
that had the appearance of a dead body. 

The barber hied him home and fidgeted about his 
shop, setting everything upside down, until sunrise. 
He then took a basin under his arm, and sallied forth 
to the house of his daily customer, the alcalde. 1 

The alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated 
him in a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a 
basin of hot water under his chin, and began to mollify 
his beard with his fingers. 

"Strange doings," said Pedrugo, who played barber 
and newsmonger 2 at the same time. "Strange doings ! 
Robbery, and murder, and burial, all in one night !" 

"Hey ? how ! What is it you say ? " cried the alcalde. 

"I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap 
over the nose and mouth of the dignitary, " I say that 
Peregil the Gallego has robbed and murdered a Moorish 
Mussulman, and buried him this blessed night. Ac- 
cursed be the night for the same !" 

"But how do you know all this?" demanded the 
alcalde. 

1 Judge. The title is still used in Spain and countries in 
America settled by Spaniards. He also serves as mayor. 

2 Gossip. 



128 IRVING STORIES 

"Be patient, Seilor, 1 and you shall hear all about 
it/' replied Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and slid-, 
ing a razor over his cheek. He then recounted all 
that he had seen, going through both operations at 
the same time, shaving his beard and washing his chin 
while he was robbing, murdering, and burying the 
Moslem. 

Now it so happened that this alcalde was one of the 
most overbearing and at the same time most corrupt 
curmudgeons 2 in all Granada. It could not be denied, 
however, that he set a high value upon justice, for he 
sold it at its weight in gold. He presumed the case 
in point to be one of murder and robbery. Doubtless 
there must be rich spoil ; how was it to be secured into 
the legitimate hands of the law? for as to merely 
entrapping the delinquent — that would be feeding 
the gallows ; but entrapping the booty — that would 
be enriching the judge; and such, according to his 
creed, was the great end of justice. So thinking, he 
summoned to his presence his trustiest alguazil, 3 a 
gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad, according to the 
custom of his order, in the ancient Spanish garb : a 
broad black beaver, turned up at the sides ; a quaint 
ruff, a small black cloak dangling from his shoulders ; 
rusty black underclothes that set off his spare wiry 
form ; while in his hand he bore a slender white wand, 

1 A Spanish term similar to our " Sir " or " Mister." 

- A risers. 

3 The general name in Spain of the officers intrusted to execute 
justice; attendants or officers of the court of justice and police 
who are appointed by the judges or town council. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 129 

the dreaded insignia of his office. Such was the legal 
bloodhound of the ancient Spanish breed that he put 
upon the traces of the unlucky water-carrier; and 
such was his speed and certainty that he was upon 
the haunches of poor Peregil before he had returned 
to his dwelling, and brought both him and his donkey 
before the dispenser of justice. 

The alcalde bent upon him one of his most terrific 
frowns. 

"Hark ye, culprit !" roared he in a voice that made 
the knees of the little Gallego smite together. " Hark 
ye, culprit! there is no need of denying thy guilt: 
everything is known to me. A gallows is the proper 
reward for the crime thou hast committed ; but I 
am merciful, and readily listen to reason. The man 
that has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, an 
infidel, the enemy of our faith. It was doubtless in a 
fit of religious zeal that thou hast slain him. I will 
be indulgent, therefore; render up the property of 
which thou hast robbed him, and we will hush the 
matter up." 

The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to 
witness his innocence ; alas ! not one of them appeared. 
The water-carrier related the whole story of the dying 
Moor with the straightforward simplicity of truth, but 
it was all in vain. 

"Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded the judge, 
"that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels, which 
were the object of thy cupidity?" 1 
1 Greed. 



130 IRVING STORIES 

"As I hope to be saved, your worship," replied the 
water-carrier, "he had nothing but a small box of 
sandal wood, which he bequeathed to me in reward 
of my services." 

"A box of sandal wood! a box of sandal wood!" 
exclaimed the alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea 
of precious jewels. "And where is this box? Where 
have you concealed it ?" 

"An' it please your grace," replied the water-carrier, 
"it is in one of the panniers of my mule, and heartily 
at the service of your worship." 

He had hardly spoken the words when the keen 
alguazil darted off and reappeared in an instant with 
the mysterious box of sandal wood. The alcalde 
opened it with an eager and trembling hand. All 
pressed forward to gaze upon the treasures it was ex- 
pected to contain ; when, to their disappointment, noth- 
ing appeared within but a parchment scroll, covered 
with Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper ! 

The alcalde, having recovered from his disappoint- 
ment and found there was really no booty in the case, 
now listened dispassionately 1 to the explanation of 
the water-carrier, which was corroborated by the 
testimony of his wife. Being convinced, therefore, of 
his innocence, he discharged him from arrest; nay 
more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, 
the box of sandal wood and its contents, as the well- 
merited reward of his humanity; but he retained his 
donkey in payment of costs and charges. 

1 Without any show of fooling. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 131 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once 
more to the necessity of being his own water-carrier, 
and trudging up to the well of the Alhambra with a 
great earthen jar upon his shoulder! As he toiled 
up the hill in the heat of a summer noon his usual 
good humor forsook him. 

"Dog of an alcalde !" would he cry, "to rob a poor 
man of the means of his subsistence — of the best 
friend he had in the world !" 

And then at the remembrance of the beloved com- 
panion of his labors all the kindness of his nature would 
break forth. 

"Ah, donkey of my heart !" would he exclaim, rest- 
ing his burden on a stone, and wiping the sweat from 
his brow. "Ah, donkey of my heart! I warrant me 
thou thinkest of thy old master ! I warrant me thou 
missest thy water jars — poor beast !" 

To add to his afflictions his wife received him, on his 
return home, with whimperings and repinings; and, 
like a knowing woman, she took every occasion to 
throw her superior sagacity * in his teeth. If ever her 
children lacked food, or needed a new garment, she 
would answer with a sneer, " Go to your father ; he's 
heir to king Chico 2 of the Alhambra. Ask him to 
help you out of the Moor's strong box." 

Was ever poor mortal more soundly punished for 

having done a good action ! The unlucky Peregil was 

grieved in flesh and spirit, but still he bore meekly 

with the railings of his spouse. At length one evening, 

1 Shrewdness. 2 See Introduction, p. 18. 



132 IRVING STORIES 

when, after a hot day's toil, she taunted him in the 
usual manner, he lost all patience. He did not venture 
to retort upon her, but his eye rested upon the box of 
sandal wood, which lay on a shelf with lid half open, 
as if laughing in mockery of his vexation. Seizing it 
up he dashed it with indignation on the floor. 

"Unlucky was the day that I ever set eyes on thee," 
he cried, "or sheltered thy master beneath my roof." 

As the box struck the floor the lid flew wide open, 
and the parchment scroll rolled forth. Peregil sat 
regarding the scroll for some time in moody silence. 
At length rallying his ideas, " Who knows," thought 
he, "but this writing may be of some importance, as 
the Moor seems to have guarded it with such care?" 

Picking it up, therefore, he put it in his bosom, and 
the next morning, as he was crying water through the 
streets, he stopped at the shop of a Moor, a native of 
Tangiers, 1 who st)ld trinkets and perfumery in the 
Zacatin, 2 and asked him to explain the contents. 

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked 
his beard and smiled. 

"This manuscript," said he, "is a form of incantation 
for the recovery of hidden treasure that is under the 
power of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue 
that the strongest bolts and bars, nay the adamantine 
rock 3 itself will yield before it." 

1 A seaport town of Morocco. It is surrounded by walls and 
defended by a castle. 

2 The main street of what in the time of the Moors was a great 
bazaar. 

- A rock of exl reme hardness. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY, 133 

"Bah!" cried the little Gallego, "what is all that 
to me ? I am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried 
treasure." 

So saying he shouldered his water-jar, left the scroll 
in the hands of the Moor, and trudged forward on his 
daily rounds. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself about 
twilight at the well of the Alhambra, he found a num- 
ber of gossips assembled at the place; and their con- 
versation, as is not unusual at that shadowy hour, 
turned upon old tales and traditions of a supernatural 
nature. Being all poor as rats, they dwelt with pe- 
culiar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted 
riches left by the Moors in various parts of the Al- 
hambra. Above all, they concurred in the belief that 
there were great treasures buried deep in the earth 
under the tower of the Seven Floors. 1 

These stories made an unusual impression on the 
mind of honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and 
deeper into his thoughts as he returned alone down 
the darkling avenues. 

"If, after all, there should be treasure hid beneath 
that tower ; and if the scroll I left with the Moor should 
enable me to get at it !" 

In the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had well 
nigh let fall his water jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely 
get a wink of sleep for the thoughts that were be- 
wildering his brain. In the morning, bright and early, 
1 See Introduction, p. 18. 



134 IRVING STORIES 

he went to the shop of the Moor and told him all that 
was passing in his mind. 

"You can read Arabic," said he; "suppose we go 
together to the tower and try the effect of the charm. 
If it fails we are no worse off than before, but if it suc- 
ceeds we will share equally all the treasure we may 
discover." 

"Hold !" replied the Moslem. " This writing is not 
sufficient of itself; it must be read at midnight, by 
the light of a taper singularly prepared, the ingredients 
of which are not within my reach. Without such 
taper the scroll is of no avail." 

"Say no more!" cried the little Gallego. "I have 
such a taper at hand and will bring it here in a mo- 
ment." 

So saying he hastened home, and soon returned 
with the end of a yellow wax taper that he had found 
in the box of sandal wood. The Moor felt it, and 
smelt of it. 

"Here are rare and costly perfumes," said he, "com- 
bined with this yellow wax. This is the kind of taper 
specified in the scroll. While this burns, the strongest 
walls and most secret caverns will remain open; woe 
to him, however, who lingers within until it be ex- 
tinguished ! He will remain enchanted with the 
treasure." 

It was now agreed between them to try the charm 
that very night. At a late hour, therefore, when 
nothing was stirring but bats and owls, they ascended 
the woody hill of the Alhambra, and approached that 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 135 

awful tower, shrouded by trees and rendered formidab 1 
by so many traditionary tales. 

By the light of a lantern, they groped their way 
through bushes, and over fallen stones, to the door 
of a vault beneath the tower. With fear and trembling 
they descended a flight of steps cut into the rock. It 
led to an empty chamber, damp and drear, from which 
another flight of steps led to a deeper vault. In this 
way they descended four several flights, leading into as 
many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of the 
fourth was solid, and though, according to tradition, 
there remained three vaults still below, it was said to 
be impossible to penetrate further, the residue being 
shut up by strong enchantment. The air of this vault 
was damp and chilly, and had an earthy smell, and 
the light scarce cast forth any rays. 

They paused here for a time in breathless suspense, 
until they faintly heard the clock of the watch tower 
strike midnight. Upon this they lit the waxen taper, 
which diffused an odor of myrrh and frankincense and 
storax. 1 

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had 
scarce finished, when there was a noise as of subterra- 
neous thunder. The earth shook, and the floor yawn- 
ing open disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with 
awe they descended, and by the light of the lantern 
found themselves in another vault, covered with Arabic 
inscriptions. In the center stood a great chest, secured 
with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an 

1 Fragrant Oriental gums used in making candles and incense. 



136 IRVING STORIES 

enchanted Moor in armor, but motionless as a statue. 
Before the chest were several jars filled with gold and 
silver and precious stones. In the largest of these they 
thrust their arms up to the elbow, and at every dip 
hauled forth handfuls of broad yellow pieces of Moorish 
gold, or bracelets and ornaments of the same precious 
metal. Occasionally a necklace of oriental pearl would 
stick to their fingers. Still they trembled and breathed 
short while cramming their pockets with the spoils, 
and cast many a fearful glance at the two enchanted 
Moors, who sat grim and motionless, glaring upon 
them with unwinking eyes. 

At length, struck with a sudden panic at some fancied 
noise, they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled over 
one another into the upper apartment, and overturned 
and extinguished the waxen taper. The pavement 
again closed with a thundering sound. 

Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they 
had groped their way out of the tower, and beheld the 
stars shining through the trees. Then seating them- 
selves upon the grass, they divided the spoil, deter- 
mining to content themselves for the present with 
this mere skimming of the jars, but to return on some 
future night and drain them to the bottom. To make 
sure of each other's good faith, also, they divided the 
talismans l between them, one retaining the scroll and 
the other the taper ; this done, they set off with light 
hearts and well-lined pockets for Granada. 

1 A charm that produces extraordinary effects, — in this case 
the opening of the treasure cave. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 137 

As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd 
Moor whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the 
simple little water-carrier. 

"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be 
kept a profound secret until we have secured the treas- 
ure and conveyed it out of harm's way. If a whisper 
of it gets to the ear of the alcalde we are undone !" 

"Certainly," replied the Gallego, "nothing can be 
more true." 

"Friend Peregil," said the Moor, " you are a discreet 
man, and I make no doubt can keep a secret ; but — 
you have a wife — " 

"She shall not know a word of it!" replied the little 
water-carrier sturdily. 

"Enough," said the Moor, "I depend upon thy 
discretion and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere ; but 
alas ! what man can keep a secret from his wife ? Cer- 
tainly not such a one as Peregil the water-carrier, who 
was one of the most loving and tractable of husbands. 
On his return home he found his wife moping in a 
corner. 

"Mighty well!" cried she, as he entered. " You've 
come at last, after rambling about until this hour of 
the night. I wonder you have not brought home 
another Moor." 

Then bursting into tears she began to wring her 
hands and smite her breast. 

"Unhappy woman that I am!" exclaimed she. 
"What will become of me! My house stripped and 



138 IRVING STORIES 

plundered by lawyers and alguazils; my husband a 
do-no-good that no longer brings home bread for his 
family, but goes rambling about, day and night, with 
infidel Moors ! Oh, my children ! my children ! what 
will become of us? We shall all have to beg in the 
streets V 

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his 
spouse that he could not help whimpering also. His 
heart was as full as his pocket, and not to be restrained. 
Thrusting his hand into the latter he hauled forth three 
or four broad gold pieces and slipped them into her 
bosom. The poor woman stared with astonishment, 
and could not understand the meaning of this golden 
shower. Before she could recover her surprise, the 
little Gallego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled 
it before her, capering with exultation, his mouth 
distended from ear to ear. 

"What hast thou been doing, Peregil?" exclaimed 
the wife. " Surely thou hast not been committing 
murder and robbery!" 

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman 
than it became a certainty with her. She saw a prison 
and a gallows in the distance, and a little bandy-legged 
Gallego dangling pendent from it; and, overcome by 
the horrors conjured up by her imagination, fell into 
violent hysterics. 

What could the poor man do? He had no other 
means of pacifying his wife and dispelling the phantoms 
of hor fancy than by relating the whole story of his 
good fortune. This, however, he did not do until he 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY 139 

had exacted from her the most solemn promise to keep 
it a profound secret from every living being. 

To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung 
her arms round the neck of her husband, and almost 
strangled him with her caresses. 

"Now, wife!" exclaimed the little man with honest 
exultation, "what say you now to the Moor's legacy? 
Henceforth never abuse me for helping a fellow-creature 
in distress." 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheepskin mat 
and slept as soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so 
his wife. She emptied the whole contents of his pockets 
upon the mat, and sat all night counting gold pieces of 
Arabic coin, trying on necklaces and ear-rings, and 
fancying the figure she should one day make when per- 
mitted to enjoy her riches. 

On the following morning the honest Gallego took 
a broad golden coin and repaired with it to a jeweler's 
shop in the Zacatin to offer it for sale, pretending to 
have found it among the ruins of the Alhambra. The 
jeweler saw that it had an Arabic inscription and was 
of the purest gold. He offered, however, but a third 
of its value, with which the water-carrier was perfectly 
content. Peregil now bought new clothes for his 
little flock, and all kinds of toys, together with ample 
provisions for a hearty meal, and returning to his 
dwelling set all his children dancing around him, while 
he capered in the midst, the happiest of fathers. 

The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of 
secrecy with surprising strictness. For a whole day 



140 IRVING STORIES 

and a half .she went about with a look of mystery and 
a heart swelling almost to bursting, yet she held her 
peace, though surrounded by her gossips. It is true 
she could not help giving herself a few airs, apologized 
for her ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new 
basquina 1 all trimmed with gold lace and bugles, 2 and 
a new lace mantilla. 3 She threw out hints of her 
husband's intention of leaving off his trade of water- 
carrying, as it did not altogether agree with his health. 
In fact she thought they should all retire to the country 
for the summer, that the children might have the 
benefit of the mountain air, for there was no living 
in the city in this sultry season. 

The neighbors stared at each other and thought the 
poor woman had lost her wits, and her airs and graces 
and elegant pretensions were the theme of universal 
scoffing and merriment among her friends, the moment 
her back was turned. 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she did not 

at home, and putting a string of rich oriental pearls 

round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms, an 

aigrette of diamonds on her head, she sailed backwards 

and forwards in her rags about the room, now and then 

stopping to admire herself in a piece of broken mirror. 

Nay, in the impulse of her simple vanity, she could not 

resist on one occasion showing herself at the window 

to on joy the effect of her finery on the passers-by. 

' An outer petticoat worn by Spanish women. 
Long glass heads. 

A kind of veil, covering the head and falling down upon the 
shoulders. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 141 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the 
meddlesome barber, was at this moment sitting idly 
in his shop on the opposite side of the street, when 
his ever watchful eye caught the sparkle of a diamond. 
In an instant he was at his loop-hole, watching the 
spouse of the water-carrier, decorated with the 
splendor of an eastern bride. No sooner had he 
taken an accurate inventory of her ornaments than 
he posted off with all speed to the alcalde. In a 
little while the hungry alguazil was again on the 
scent, and before the day was over, the unfortunate 
Peregil was again dragged into the presence of the 
judge. 

"How is this, villain !" cried the alcalde in a furious 
voice. "You told me that the Moor who died in 
your house left nothing behind but an empty coffer, 1 
and now I hear of your wife flaunting in her rags 
decked out with pearls and diamonds. Wretch that 
thou art ! prepare to render up the spoils of thy miser- 
able victim, and to swing on the gallows that is already 
tired of waiting for thee." 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and 
made a full relation of the marvelous manner in which 
he had gained his wealth. The alcalde, the alguazil, 
and the inquisitive barber listened with greedy ears to 
this Arabian tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil 
was despatched to bring the Moor who had assisted 
in the incantation. The Moslem entered half fright- 
ened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of 
1 Chest or trunk. 



142 IRVING STORIES 

the harpies l of the law. When he beheld the water- 
carrier standing with sheepish look and downcast 
countenance, he comprehended the whole matter. 

" Miserable animal/' said he, as he passed near him, 
"did I not warn thee against babbling to thy wife?" 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that 
of his colleague ; but the Alcalde affected to be slow 
of belief, and threw out menaces of imprisonment. 

"Softly, good Sefior Alcalde," said the Mussulman, 
who by this time had recovered his usual shrewdness 
and self-possession. "Let us not mar fortune's favors 
in the scramble for them. Nobody knows anything 
of this matter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. 
There is wealth enough in the cave to enrich us all. 
Promise a fair division, and all shall be produced ; 
refuse, and the cave shall remain forever closed." 

The alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The 
latter was an old fox in his profession. 

"Promise anything," said he, "until you get pos- 
session of the treasure. You may then seize upon the 
whole, and if he and his accomplice dare to murmur, 
threaten them with the faggot and the stake." 

The alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his 
brow and turning to the Moor, he said : 

"This is a strange story and may be true, but I must 
have proof of it. This very night you must repeat the 
incantation in my presence. If there be really such 

1 The Harpies were monsters having women's heads and 
birds' wings, claws, tails, and logs. They were usually evil 
creatures who carried off the souls of the dead. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGCAY 143 

treasure, we will share it and say nothing further of the 
matter ; if ye have deceived me, expect no mercy at my 
hands. In the mean time you must remain in custody." 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to 
these conditions, satisfied that the event would prove 
the truth of their words. 

Towards midnight the alcalde sallied forth secretly, 
attended by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, 
all strongly armed. They conducted the Moor and the 
water-carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the 
stout donkey of the latter, to bear off the expected 
treasure. They arrived at the tower without being 
observed, and tying the donkey to a fig tree, descended 
into the fourth vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper 
lighted, and the Moor read the form of incantation. 
The earth trembled as before, and the pavement 
opened with a thundering sound, disclosing the narrow 
flight of steps. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the 
barber were struck aghast, and could not summon 
courage to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier 
entered the lower vault and found the two Moors 
seated as before, silent and motionless. They removed 
two of the great jars, filled with golden coin and precious 
stones. The water-carrier bore them up one by one 
upon his shoulders, but though a strong-backed little 
man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he staggered 
beneath their weight, and found, when slung on each 
side of his donkey, they were as much as the animal 
could bear. 



144 IRVING STORIES 

"Let us be content for the present," said the Moor. 
"Here is as much treasure as we can carry off without 
being perceived, and enough to make us all wealthy to 
our heart's desire." 

"Is there more treasure remaining behind?" de- 
manded the alcalde. 

"The greatest prize of all," said the Moor: "a huge 
coffer, bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls 
and precious stones." 

"Let us have up the coffer by all means," cried the 
grasping alcalde. 

"I will descend for no more," said the Moor, dog- 
gedly. " Enough is enough for a reasonable man." 

"And I," said the water-carrier, "will bring up no 
further burden to break the back of my poor donkey." 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally 
vain, the alcalde turned to his two adherents. 

"Aid me," said he, "to bring up the coffer, and its 
contents shall be divided between us." So saying he 
descended the steps, followed, with trembling reluc- 
tance, by the alguazil and the barber. 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed 
than he extinguished the yellow taper. The pavement 
closed with its usual crash, and the three worthies 
remained buried. 

He then hastened up the different flights of steps, 
nor stopped until in the open air. The little water- 
carrier followed him as fast as his short legs would 
permit. 

"What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 145 

he could recover breath. " The alcalde and the other 
two are shut up in the vault !" 

"It is the will of Allah !" said the Moor, devoutly. 

"And will you not release them?" demanded the 
Gallego. 

"Allah forbid!" replied the Moor, smoothing his 
beard. "It is written in the book of fate that they 
shall remain enchanted until some future adventurer 
shall come to break the charm. The will of God be 
done !" 

So saying he hurled the end of the waxen taper far 
among the gloomy thickets of the glen. 

There was now no remedy, so the Moor and the 
water-carrier proceeded with the richly-laden donkey 
towards the city. Honest Peregil could not refrain 
from hugging and kissing his long-eared fellow-laborer, 
thus restored to him from the clutches of the law. In 
fact, it is doubtful which gave the simple-hearted little 
man most joy at the moment, the gaining of the treas- 
ure or the recovery of the donkey. 

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil 
amicably and fairly, except that the Moor, who had a 
little taste for trinketry, made out to get into his heap 
the most of the pearls and precious stones, and other 
baubles, but then he always gave the water-carrier in 
lieu x magnificent jewels of massy gold, four times the 
size, with which the latter was heartily content. 

They took care not to linger within reach of accidents, 
but made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other 
1 Instead. 



146 IRVING STORIES 

countries. The Moor returned into Africa, to his 
native city of Tetuan, 1 and the Gallego, with his wife, 
his children and his donkey, made the best of his way 
to Portugal. Here, under the admonition and tuition 
of his wife, he became a personage of some consequence, 
for she made the little man array his long body and 
short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather in his 
hat and a sword by his side; and, laying aside the 
familiar appellation of Peregil, assume the more so- 
norous title of Don Pedro Gil. His progeny grew up 
a thriving and merry-hearted, though short and bandy- 
legged generation; while the Senora Gil, befringed, 
belaced, and betasseled from her head to her heels, 
with glittering rings on every finger, became a model 
of fashion and finery. 

As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained 
shut up under the great tower of the Seven Floors, 
and there they remain spellbound at the present day. 
1 A commercial town in the northern part of Morocco. 



THE LEGEND OE THE ROSE 
OF THE ALHAMBRA 

For some time after the surrender of Granada by 
the Moors, 1 that delightful city was a frequent and 
favorite residence of the Spanish sovereigns, until 
they were frightened away by successive shocks of 
earthquakes, which toppled down various houses and 
made the old Moslem towers rock to their foundation. 

Many, many years then rolled away, during which 
Granada was rarely honored by a royal guest. The 
palaces of the nobility remained silent and shut up ; 
and the Alhambra, like a slighted beauty, sat in mourn- 
ful desolation among her neglected gardens. The 
Tower of the Infantas, 2 once the residence of the three 
beautiful Moorish princesses, partook of the general 
desolation. The Spider spun her web athwart the 
gilded vault, and bats and owls nestled in those cham- 
bers that had been graced by the presence of Zayda, 
Zorayda, and Zorahayda. 3 The neglect of the tower 
may have been partly owing to some superstitious 
notions of the neighbors. It was rumored that the 

1 See Introduction, p. 16. 2 See Introduction, p. 17. 

3 The three princesses, daughters of Mohamed " the Left- 
handed." The story, Legend of the Three Beautiful Princesses, 
also comes from The Alhambra. 

147 



148 IRVING STORIES 

spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who had perished in 
that tower, was often seen by moonlight seated beside 
the fountain in the hall, or moaning about the battle- 
ments, and that the notes of her silver lute would be 
heard at midnight by wayfarers passing along the glen. 

At length the city of Granada was once more en- 
livened by the royal presence. All the world knows 
that Philip V was the first Bourbon 1 that swayed the 
Spanish scepter. All the world knows that he married, 
in second nuptials, Elizabetta or Isabella (for they are 
the same), the beautiful princess of Parma; and all 
the world knows that by this chain of circumstances 
a French prince and an Italian princess were seated 
together on the Spanish throne. For the reception of 
this illustrious pair the Alhambra was repaired and 
fitted up with all possible expedition. 

The arrival of the court changed the whole aspect 
of the lately deserted place. The clangor of drum 
and trumpet, the tramp of steed about the avenues 
and outer court, the glitter of arms and display of 
banners about barbican 2 and battlement, recalled the 
ancient and warlike glories of the fortress. A softer 
spirit, however, reigned within the royal palace. There 
was the rustling of robes, and the cautious tread and 
murmuring voice of reverential courtiers about the 

1 King of Spain, 1700-1746. The schemes of Elizabeth of 
Parma, his second wife, for advancing the interest of her sons 
kept Spain in a tumult throughout the reign. 

The name Bourbon was laken from the castle of Bourbon in 
the former province of Bourbonnais. 

The outer defensive work of the castle. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 149 

antechambers, a loitering of pages and maids of honor 
about the gardens, and the sound of music stealing from 
open casements. 

Among those who attended in the train of the mon- 
archs was a favorite page of the queen, named Ruyz 
de Alar con. He was just turned of eighteen, light and 
lithe of form, and graceful as a young Antinous. 1 To 
the queen, he was all deference and respect, yet he 
was at heart a roguish stripling, petted and spoiled by 
the ladies about the court. 

This loitering page was one morning rambling about 
the groves of the Generaliffe, 2 which overlook the 
grounds of the Alhambra. He had taken with him for 
his amusement a favorite gyrfalcon 3 of the queen. In 
the course of his rambles, seeing a bird rising from a 
thicket, he unhooded the hawk and let him fly. The 
falcon towered high in the air, made a swoop at his 
quarry, but missing it, soared away regardless of the 
calls of the page. The latter followed the truant bird 
with his eye, until he saw it alight upon the battlements 
of a remote and lonely tower, in the outer wall of the 
Alhambra, built on the edge of a ravine that separated 
the royal fortress from the grounds of the Generaliffe. 
It was, in fact, the " Tower of the Princesses." 4 

j A beautiful youth born in Bithynia, an ancient country of 
Asia Minor. He was the favorite of the Emperor Hadrian, who, 
after the youth was drowned in the Nile, enrolled him among 
the gods. 

2 The summer palace of the Moorish princes. Among the 
ruined splendors of Moslem power this building is next in interest 
to the Alhambra. 

3 See Introduction, p. 18. 4 See Introduction, p. 17. 



150 IRVING STORIES 

The page descended into the ravine and approached 
the tower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and 
its lofty height rendered any attempt to scale it fruit- 
less. Seeking one of the gates of the fortress, there- 
fore, he made a wide circuit to that side of the tower 
facing within the walls. 

A small garden inclosed by a trellis-work of reeds 
overhung with myrtle lay before the tower. Opening 
a wicket, the page passed between beds of flowers and 
thickets of roses to the door. It was closed and bolted. 
A crevice in the door gave him a peep into the interior. 
There was a small Moorish hall with fretted walls, 
light marble columns, and an alabaster fountain sur- 
rounded with flowers. In the centre hung a gilt cage 
containing a singing bird. Beneath it, on a chair, 
lay a tortoise-shell cat among reels of silk ; and a guitar, 
decorated with ribands, 1 leaned against the fountain. 

Ruyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces of 
female taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as he had 
supposed, deserted tower. They reminded him of the 
tales of enchanted halls in the Alhambra; and the 
tortoise-shell cat might be some spellbound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door. A beautiful face 
peeped out from a little window above, but was in- 
stantly withdrawn. He waited, expecting that the 
door would be opened; but he waited in vain. No 
footstep was to be heard within — all was silent. Had 
his senses deceived him, or was this beautiful apparition 
the fairy of the tower? He knocked again, and more 

1 Ribbons. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 151 

loudly. After a little while the beaming face once 
more peeped forth. It was that of a blooming damsel 
of fifteen. 

The page immediately doffed his plumed bonnet, 
and entreated in the most courteous accents to be 
permitted to ascend the tower in pursuit of his falcon. 

"I dare not open the door, Sefior," replied the little 
damsel, blushing; "my aunt has forbidden it." 

"I do beseech you, fair maid ; it is the favorite falcon 
of the queen. I dare not return to the palace without 
it." 

"Are you then one of the cavaliers of the court ?" 

"I am, fair maid ; but I shall lose the queen's favor 
and my place if I lose this hawk." 

"Santa Maria! It is against you cavaliers of the 
court that my aunt has charged me especially to bar 
the door." 

"Against wicked cavaliers, doubtless; but I am 
none of those, only a simple, harmless page, who will 
be ruined and undone if you deny me this small re- 
quest." 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by the 
distress of the page. It was a thousand pities he should 
be ruined for the want of so trifling a boon. Surely, 
too, he could not be one of those dangerous beings 
whom her aunt had described as a species of cannibal. 
He was gentle and modest, and stood so entreatingly 
with cap in hand, and looked so charming ! 

The sly page redoubled his entreaties in such moving 
terms that it was not in the nature of mortal maiden 



152 IRVING STORIES 

to deny him ; so the blushing little warder of the tower 
descended and opened the door with a trembling hand. 
The page was charmed by the portrait now revealed 
to him. Her Andalusian bodice * and trim basquina 
set off the round but delicate symmetry of her form. 
Her glossy hair was parted on her forehead with scru- 
pulous exactness, and decorated with a fresh plucked 
rose, according to the universal custom of the country. 
It is true, her complexion was tinged by the ardor of 
a southern sun, but it served to give richness to the 
bloom of her cheek, and to heighten the luster of her 
eyes. 

Ruyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single glance, 
for it became him not to tarry. He merely murmured 
his acknowledgments, and then bounded lightly up 
the spiral staircase in quest of his falcon. 

He soon returned with the truant bird upon his fist. 
The damsel, in the meantime, had seated herself by 
the fountain in the hall and was winding silk ; but in 
her agitation she let fall the reel upon the pavement. 
The page sprang, picked it up, then dropping grace- 
fully on one knee, presented it to her. Seizing the 
hand extended to receive it, he imprinted on it a kiss 
more fervent and devout than he had ever imprinted 
on the fair hand of his sovereign. 

"Ave Maria, Senor!" exclaimed the damsel, blusn- 
ing still deeper with confusion and surprise. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, assur- 

1 A close-fitting waist worn in Andalusia, an old division of 
southern Spam. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 153 

ing her it was the way at court of expressing the most 
profound homage and respect. She sat blushing, with 
her eyes cast down upon her work, entangling the silk 
which she attempted to wind. 

Suddenly a shrill voice was heard at a distance. 

"My aunt is returning from mass !" [cried the damsel 
in affright. "I pray you, Sefior, depart." 

"Not until you grant me that rose from your hair 
as a remembrance." 

She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven locks. 

"Take it," cried she, "but pray begone." 

The page took the rose, and at the same time kissed 
the fair hand that gave it. Then placing the flower 
in his bonnet, 1 and taking the falcon upon his fist, he 
bounded off through the garden, bearing away with 
him the heart of the gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she 
remarked the agitation of her niece, and an air of 
confusion in the hall ; but a word of explanation from 
Jacinta sufficed. 

"A gyrfalcon had pursued his prey into the hall." 

"Mercy on us!" said the aunt. "To think of a 
falcon flying into the tower. Did ever one hear of so 
saucy a hawk ? Why, the very bird in the cage is not 
safe." 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary 
of ancient spinsters. The niece was the orphan of an 
officer who had fallen in the wars. She had been edu- 
cated in a convent, and had recently been transferred 

* Cap. 



154 IRVING STORIES 

from her sacred asylum to the immediate guardianship 
of her aunt. Her fresh and dawning beauty had caught 
the public eye, even in her seclusion, and, with that 
poetical turn common to the people of Andalusia, the 
peasantry of the neighborhood had given her the ap- 
pellation of "The Rose of the Alhambra." 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch 
over her little niece as long as the court continued at 
Granada, and flattered herself that her vigilance had 
been successful. At length King Philip cut short his 
sojourn at Granada, and suddenly departed with all 
his train. The vigilant Fredegonda watched the royal 
pageant as it issued forth from the Gate of Justice * 
and descended the great avenue leading to the city. 
When the last banner disappeared from her sight, she 
returned exulting to her tower, for all her cares were 
over. 

To her surprise, a light Arabian steed pawed the 
ground at the wicket gate of the garden. To her 
horror she saw through the thickets of roses a youth, 
in gayly embroidered dress, at the feet of her niece. 
At the sound of her footsteps he gave a tender adieu, 
bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and myrtles, 
sprang upon his horse, and was out of sight in an instant^ 

The tender Jacinta in the agony of her grief lost all 
i bought of her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself 
into her arms, she broke forth into sobs and tears. 

"Oh!" cried she, "he is gone! he is gone! and I 
shall never see him more !" 

1 Sec Introduction, p. 17. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 155 

"Gone! who is gone? what youth is this I saw at 
your feet?" 

"A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me fare- 
well." 

"A queen's page, child !" echoed the vigilant Frede- 
gonda faintly, "and when did you become acquainted 
with a queen's page?" 

"The morning that the gyrfalcon flew into the tower. 
It was the queen's gyrfalcon, and he came in pursuit 
of it." 

"Ah, silly, silly girl! know that there are no gyr- 
falcons half so dangerous as these prankling pages, 
and it is precisely such simple birds as thee that they 
pounce upon." 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more 
was heard of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the 
vine yielded up its fruit, the autumn rains descended 
in torrents from the mountains ; the Sierra Nevada x 
became covered with a snowy mantle, and wintry blasts 
howled through the halls of the Alhambra. Still he 
came not. The winter passed away. Again the genial 
spring burst forth with song and blossoms and balmy 
zephyr. The snows melted from the mountains, until 
none remained but on the lofty summit of the Nevada, 
glistening through the sultry summer air. Still noth- 
ing was heard of the forgetful page. 

In the meantime the poor little Jacinta grew pale 
and thoughtful. Her former occupations and amuse- 
ments were abandoned, her silk lay entangled, her 
1 The " Snowy Mountains," a range in southern Spain. 



156 IRVING STORIES 

guitar unstrung, her flowers were neglected, the notes 
of her bird unheeded, and her eyes, once so bright, 
were dimmed with weeping. 

"Alas, silly child!" would the staid Fredegonda 
say, when she found her niece in one of her desponding 
moods. "What couldst thou expect from one of a 
haughty and aspiring family, thou, an orphan, the 
descendant of a fallen line ? Be assured, if the youth 
were true, his father, who is one of the proudest nobles 
about the court, would prohibit his union with one so 
humble and portionless as thou. Pluck up thy resolu- 
tion, therefore, and drive these idle notions from thy 
mind." 

The words of Fredegonda only served to increase 
the melancholy of her niece. 

At a late hour one midsummer night, after her aunt 
had retired to rest, she remained alone in the hall of 
the tower, seated beside the alabaster fountain. The 
poor little damsel's heart was overladen with sad and 
tender recollections, her tears began to flow, and slowly 
fell drop by drop into the fountain. By degrees the 
crystal water became agitated, and bubble — bubble — 
bubble, boiled up and was tossed about until a female 
figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly rose to view. 

Jacinta was so frightened that she fled from the 
hall, and did not venture to return. The next morn- 
ing, she related to her aunt what she had seen, but the 
good lady treated it as a fantasy of her troubled mind, 
or supposed she had fallen asleep and dreamt beside 
the fountain. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 157 

"Thou hast been thinking of the story of the three 
Moorish princesses that once inhabited the tower," 
said she, "and it has entered into thy dreams." 

"What story, aunt? I know nothing of it." 

"Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, 
Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined 
in this tower by the king, their father, and agreed to 
fly with three Christian cavaliers. The first two ac- 
complished their escape, but the third failed in resolu- 
tion and remained, and, it is said, died in this tower." 

"I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta, 
"and to have wept over the fate of the gentle Zora- 
hayda." 

"Thou mayst well weep over her fate," continued 
the aunt, "for the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. 
He long bemoaned his Moorish love, but time cured 
him of his grief, and he married a Spanish lady, from 
whom thou art descended." 

Jacinta pondered upon these words. 

"That what I have seen is no fantasy of the brain," 
said she to herself, "I am confident. If indeed it be 
the spirit of the gentle Zorahayda, which I have heard 
lingers about this tower, of what should I be afraid? 
I'll watch by the fountain to-night — perhaps the visit 
will be repeated." 

Towards midnight, when everything was quiet, she 
again took her seat in the hall. As the bell on the 
distant watch-tower of the Alhambra struck the mid- 
night hour, the fountain was again agitated, and bubble 
— bubble — bubble, it tossed about the waters until 



158 IRVING STORIES 

the Moorish female again rose to view. She was young 
and beautiful. Her dress was rich with jewels, and in 
her hand she held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and 
was faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive 
voice of the apparition, and the sweet expression of her 
pale, melancholy countenance. 

" Daughter of mortality," said she, "what aileth 
thee? Why do thy tears trouble my fountain, and 
thy sighs disturb the quiet watches of the night?" 

"I weep because of the faithlessness of man, and I 
bemoan my solitary and forsaken state." 

"Take comfort. Thy sorrows may yet have an end. 
Thou beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was 
unhappy in her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, 
won my heart, and would have borne me to his native 
land. But I lacked courage equal to my faith, and 
lingered till too late. For this, the evil genii are per- 
mitted to have power over me, and I remain enchanted 
in this tower, until some pure Christian will deign to 
break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task ? " 

"I will!" replied the damsel, trembling. 

"Come hither, then, and fear not. Dip thy hand 
in the fountain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptize 
me after the manner of thy faith. So shall the enchant- 
ment be dispelled, and my troubled spirit have repose." 

The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped 
her hand in the fountain, collected water in the palm, 
and sprinkled it over the pale face of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with benignity. She dropped her 
silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms, 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 159 

and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as if a 
shower of dewdrbps had fallen into the fountain. 

Jacinta retired from the hall, filled with awe and 
wonder. She scarcely closed her eyes that night. 
But when she awoke at daybreak out of a troubled 
slumber, the whole appeared to her like a dream. 
On descending into the hall, however, the truth of the 
vision was established ; for, beside the fountain she 
beheld the silver lute, glittering in the morning sun- 
shine. 

She hastened to her aunt, related all that had be- 
fallen her, and called her to behold the lute as a testi- 
monial of the reality of her story. If the good lady had 
any lingering doubts, they were removed when Jacinta 
touched the instrument, for she drew forth such raptu- 
rous tones as to thaw even the frigid heart of Frede- 
gonda. Nothing but supernatural melody could have 
produced such an effect. 

The extraordinary power of the lute became every 
day more and more apparent. The wayfarer passing 
by the tower was detained, and, as it were, spellbound, 
in breathless ecstasy. The very birds gathered in the 
neighboring trees, and, hushing their own strains, 
listened in charmed silence. Rumor soon spread the 
news abroad. The inhabitants of Granada thronged 
to the Alhambra to catch a few notes of the tran- 
scendent music that floated about the tower of Las 
Infantas. 

The lovely little minstrel was at length drawn forth 
from her retreat. The rich and powerful of the land 



160 IRVING STORIES 

contended who should entertain and do honor to her. 
Wherever she went, her vigilant aunt kept a dragon 
watch at her elbow, awing the throngs of admirers who 
hung in raptures on her strains. The report of her 
wonderful powers spread from city to city. Malaga, 
Seville, Cordova, all became successively mad on the 
theme. Nothing was talked of throughout Andalusia 
but the beautiful minstrel of the Alhambra. How could 
it be otherwise among a people so musical and gallant 
as the Andalusians ? 

While all Andalusia was thus music mad, a different 
mood prevailed at the court of Spain. Philip V, as is 
well known, was subject to all kinds of fancies. Some- 
times he would keep to his bed for weeks together, 
groaning under imaginary complaints. At other times 
he would insist upon abdicating his throne, to the great 
annoyance of his royal spouse, who had a strong relish 
for the splendors of a court and the glories of a crown 
and guided the scepter of her imbecile lord with an 
expert and steady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so effective in dispelling 
the king's fits of melancholy as the powers of music ; 
the queen took care, therefore, to have the best per- 
formers, both vocal and instrumental, at hand, and 
retained the famous Italian singer Farinelli * about the 
court as a kind of royal physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had 
come over the mind of this illustrious Bourbon, that 
sin passed all former moods. After a long spell of 
1 A Neapolitan male soprano of the eighteenth eentury. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 161 

imaginary illness, which set all the strains of Farinelli, 
and the consultations of a whole orchestra of court 
fiddlers, at defiance, the monarch fairly, in idea, gave 
up the ghost, and considered himself absolutely dead. 

This would have been harmless enough, and even 
convenient both to his queen and courtiers, had he 
been content to remain in the quietude befitting a 
dead man. But to their annoyance, he insisted upon 
having the funeral ceremonies performed over him, 
and began to grow impatient and to revile bitterly at 
them for negligence and disrespect in leaving him un- 
buried. What was to be done? To disobey the 
king's positive commands was monstrous in the eyes 
of the obsequious 1 courtiers, — but to obey him, and 
bury him alive, would be downright regicide ! 

In the midst of this fearful dilemma, a rumor reached 
the court of the female minstrel who was turning the 
brains of all Andalusia. The queen dispatched mis- 
sives in all haste, to summon her to St. Ildefonso, 
where the court at that time resided. 

Within a few days, as the queen with her maids of 
honor was walking in those stately gardens, intended, 
with their avenues, and terraces, and fountains, to 
eclipse the glories of Versailles, 2 the far-famed minstrel 
was conducted into her presence. The imperial Eliza- 
betta gazed with surprise at the youthful and unpretend- 
ing appearance of the little being that had set the 

1 Devoted, attentive. 

2 The famous palace and park of Louis XIV, whose mag- 
nificence under the Bourbons made this unequaled in fame 
among all the royal residences of the world. 



162 IRVING STORIES 

world madding. She was in her picturesque Anda- 
lusian dress, her silver lute was in her hand, and she 
stood with modest and downcast eyes, but with a 
simplicity and freshness of beauty that still bespoke 
her "the Rose of the Alhambra." 

As usual, she was accompanied by the ever-vigilant 
Fredegonda, who gave the whole history of her parent- 
age and descent to the inquiring queen. If the stately 
Elizabetta had been interested by the appearance of 
Jacinta, she was still more pleased when she learnt that 
her father had bravely fallen in the service of the crown. 

" If thy powers equal their renown," said she, " and 
thou canst cast forth this evil spirit that possesses thy 
sovereign, thy fortune shall henceforth be my care, 
and honors and wealth attend thee." 

Impatient to make trial of her skill, the queen led the 
way at once to the apartment of the moody monarch. 

Jacinta followed with downcast eyes through files of 
guards and crowds of courtiers. They arrived at 
length at a great chamber hung in black. The win- 
dows were closed to exclude the light of day. A num- 
ber of yellow wax tapers in silver scones l diffused a 
mournful light, and dimly revealed the figures of mutes 
in mourning dresses, and courtiers, who glided about 
with noiseless step and woebegone visage. In the 
midst of a funeral bier, his hands folded on his breast, 
and the tip of his nose just visible, lay extended this 
would-be-buried monarch. 

The queen entered the chamber in silence, and, 
' Brack of candlesticks. 



THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 1G3 

pointing to a footstool in an obscure corner, beckoned 
to Jacinta to sit down and commence. 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, 
but gathering confidence and animation as she pro- 
ceeded, drew forth such soft, aerial harmony that all 
present could scarce believe it mortal. As to the 
monarch, who had already considered himself in the 
world of spirits, he set it down for some angelic melody 
or the music of the spheres. 

By degrees the theme was varied, and the voice of 
the minstrel accompanied the instrument. She poured 
forth one of the legendary ballads treating of the ancient 
glories of the Alhambra and the achievements of the 
Moors. Her whole soul entered into the theme, for 
with the recollections of the Alhambra was associated 
the story of her love. The funereal chamber resounded 
with the animating strain. It entered into the gloomy 
heart of the monarch. He raised his head and gazed 
around. He sat up on his couch. His eye began to 
kindle ; at length, leaping upon the floor, he called for 
sword and buckler. 

The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted 
lute, was complete. The demon of melancholy was 
cast forth, and, as it were, a dead man brought to life. 
The windows of the apartment were thrown open ; the 
glorious splendor of Spanish sunshine burst into the 
late sorrowful chamber. All eyes sought the lovely 
enchantress, but the lute had fallen from her hand. 
She had sunk upon the earth, and the next moment 
was clasped to the heart of Ruyz de Alarcon. 



164 IRVING STORIES 

The wedding of the happy couple was shortly after 
celebrated with great splendor. 

"But hold," I hear the reader ask. "How did 
Ruyz de Alarcon account for his long neglect ?" 

Oh ! that was all owing to the opposition of a proud 
old father. Besides, young people who really like one 
another soon come to an amicable understanding and 
bury all past grievances whenever they meet. 

"But how was the proud old father reconciled to 
the match?" 

Oh ! his scruples were easily overruled by a word or 
two from the queen, especially as dignities and rewards 
were showered upon the blooming favorite of royalty. 
Besides, the lute of Jacinta, you know, possessed a 
magic power, and could control the most stubborn 
head and hardest heart. 

And what became of the enchanted lute ? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly 
proves the truth of all the story. That lute remained 
for some time in the family, but was purloined and 
earned off, as was supposed, by the great singer Fari- 
nelli, in pure jealousy. At his death it passed into 
other hands in Italy, who were ignorant of its mystic 
powers, and melting down the silver, transferred the 
strings to an old Cremona 1 fiddle. The strings still 
retain something of their magic virtues. A word in 
the reader's ear, but let it go no further, — that fiddle 
is now bewitching the whole world, — it is the fiddle of 
Paganini ! " 

1 Cremona, Italy, is famous for its rare violins. 
' A famous Italian violinist. 



LESSON STUDIES 

RIP VAN WINKLE 

Lesson I 

THE AUTHOR. WASHINGTON IRVING 

1. When and where was Washington Irving born? 

2. Give an account of his boyhood. 

3. What do we know of his parentage ? 

4. Why did he not make good progress in school ? 

5. In what profession was he especially interested? At 

what age did he begin his work? 

6. What was the general character of the books read by 

Irving? Account for this. 

7. Give a brief sketch of Irving's life up to the time of his 

first voyage to Europe. 

8. What caused Irving to make this trip to Europe ? 

9. Name some of the places he visited and the prominent 

people he met on this first voyage. 

10. What was the purpose of his second voyage to Europe? 

11. What is considered to be the turning point of his career? 

Why? 

12. Name some of his noted writings. 

13. After his return to America where did he make his home? 

14. Give an account of his later life in Tarry town. 

15. What important services did Irving render America? 

1 6. Give the place and date of his death. 

Lesson II 

In order that the pupils may gain a general knowledge of the 
story read the entire story before a study of it is undertaken. 

165 



166 IRVING STORIES 



Lesson HI 

What descriptions does the author give us as an intro- 
duction to the story? 

What impression of the Catskill Mountains do you receive 
from Irving's description of them? 

Describe each of the following : 

a. Kaatskill Mountains. 

5. The village. 

c. Rip Van Winkle. 

What relations existed between Rip and the people of the 
village? 

At what point does the plot of the story begin ? 



Lesson IV 



1. Describe Rip's home and his family. 

2. Tell the story of Rip's journey up the mountain, describ- 

ing the scenes he saw from its summit. 

3. What was the first strange thing that Rip experienced? 

4. Describe the game of ninepins, giving as vivid a de- 

scription as possible of the players. 

5. Where was Rip when he fell asleep? What caused this 

sleep? 

6. Whore did Rip find himself when he awoke? What were 

his first thoughts upon awakening? 



Lesson V 

1 . Describe Rip as he looked when he returned to the village" 

2. Describe his journey down the mountain. 

3. What changes had taken place in the village since Rip's 

departure ? 

4. What was the people's attitude toward Rip when he 

returned ? 

5. By what means did he try to make himself known? 

6. Describe Rip's home as he found it. What effect did its 

condition have upon Rip? 



LESSON STUDIES 167 

Lesson VI 

1. Tell the story of Rip's visit at the "Village Inn," de- 

scribing what he saw there. 

2. What did Rip learn concerning his neighbors? 

3. Describe Rip's meeting with his daughter. 

4. Tell Rip's story as you imagine he might have told it to 

her. (First person.) 

5. How did the people of the village regard this story ? 

6. What was the belief of the Old Dutch villagers concerning 

the return of Henry Hudson and his men ? 

7. What do you think was Irving's purpose in writing the 

story of Rip Van Winkle? 

Lessoxs VII, VIII AND IX 

These lessons may well be devoted to composition work. 

TOPICS FOR COMPOSITION 

1. A Kaatskill Village. 

2. The Game of Ninepins. 

3. Rip Van Winkle. 

4. Nicholas Veclder. 

5. Rip's Return to the Village. 

6. Imagine the change which might occur in your citj T or 

town after a period of twenty years. You might make 
it a story, pretending you fell asleep and awoke twenty 
years later. 

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 
Lessons I, II, and III 

INTRODUCTION TO THE STORY 

1. Locate: (a) Tarrytown ; (b) Tappan Zee; (c) Sleepy 

Hollow ; (d) Old Dutch Church ; (<?) Sunnyside. 
Note : Refer to map for location of these places, also to the 
notes given in the Introduction. 

2. To acquaint pupils with the plot, read the entire story 

before a study of it is undertaken. 



168 IRVING STORIES 



Lesson IV 

1. What places and persons has the author described as an 

introduction to the story? 

2. What impression does the author give you of Sleepy 

Hollow? 

3. Who was Ichabod Crane? Describe him. (Have a 

definite point of view for your description.) 

5. Describe the schoolhouse as to location and general ap- 

pearance. 

6. Give an account of Ichabod Crane's life as a schoolmaster. 

7. What were the sources of many of Ichabod's pleasures ?' 

Lesson V 

1. Describe Katrina Van Tassel. 

2. What was Ichabod's attitude toward her? 

3. Describe her home as Ichabod saw it. 

4. Who was "Brom Bones"? Why was he known by this 

name? 

5. What was the attitude of the townspeople toward "Brom 

Bones " ? Account for this. 

6. What was the relation between "Brom Bones" and 

Ichabod? Why? 

7. What was the result of this relationship? 

Lesson VI 

1. What preparations wore made by Ichabod for attending 

the "quilting frolic" at Katrina's home? 

2. Give an account of the party at the Van Tassel home. 

:5. When the guests departed why did Ichabod linger behind? 

4. In what mood was he when he left? Why? 

5. Describe Ichabod's homeward journey from the party. 

(>. In your opinion who was the "Headless Horseman"? 

(live reasons for your answer. 
7. What do you think became of Ichabod Crane? Prove 
your statements. 
Note: This last subject affords good material for work in 
argumentation. 



LESSON STUDIES 169 



Lessons VII, VIII, and IX 

These lessons may well be devoted to composition work. The 
following are topics that may be used for oral or written work : 

I. Description. 

A . The characters : 
l.Ichabod Crane. 
2.Katrina Van Tassel. 
3.Brom Bones. 

B. The Schoolhousc of Sleepy Hollow. 

C. The Van Tassel Home. 

II. Narration. 

A. The "Quilting Frolic.'' 

B. Ichabod's Homeward Journey from the Party. 

III. Argumentation. 

A. The Disappearance of Ichabod. 

B. The "Headless Horseman." 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 

Lesson I 

In order that the pupils may gain a general knowledge of the 
story read the entiie story before a study of it is undertaken. 

Lesson II 

1 . In what book does this story appear ? 

2. What is said in the Introduction about the origin of the 

story ? 

3. Locate the Rhine River and the Main River, in Germany. 

4. What city is located at their " confluence " ? 

5. Locate Wurtzburg. 

6. In a picture of an olden time castle, find the moat ; the 

drawbridge ; the barbican ; the keep. A large dic- 
tionary will show this. 

7. What is a ballad? Find, if you can, the names of some 

famous ones. 



17 o IRVING STORIES 

Lesson III 

1. What impression do you get of the Baron in the first of 

the story? 

2. What is meant by his being " a dry branch of the Katze- 

nellenbogen family ? 

3. Why did he persist in living in the castle ? 

4. How did he treat his daughter ? 

5. What sort of stories was he fond of telling ? 
g! How did his poor relatives treat him ? 

7. How did he regard himself ? 

S. What is your impression of the daughter? 

0. What is meant by her being " a prodigy " ? 

10. How do you imagine she looked ? 

11. What sort of education did she have ? 

12. How would this compare with the education of an Amer- 

ican girl to-day ? 

13. How was her memory trained ? 

14. What were her accomplishments ? 

15. How was she cared for by her aunts? 

1 6. What were her aunts like ? 

Lesson IV 

1 . 1 low did the custom of arranging a marriage differ from 

that in our country to-day ? 

2. Describe the preparations for the wedding. 

3. What false alarms were there about the Count "s approach ? 
1. Tell the story of what actually had happened to the Count. 
.",. What were his dying instructions to his friend ? 

i). What were Starkenfaust's feelings about carrying out his 

mission? 
7. What Bigns of anxiety were shown at the castle? 
s Describe the approach of the stranger. 
9. Describe the stranger himself. 

Lesson V 

1 . What prevented the stranger from explaining who he was? 
2 II mv were the Baron, the daughter, and the aunts im- 
pressed by him ? 



LESSON STUDIES 171 

3. How did he act at the bauquel ? 

4. How did the Baron's joke affect him ? 

5. What sort of stories did the Baron tell ? 

6. What sudden announcement did the stranger make ? 

7. What effect did his departure make on the different 

guests ? 

Lesson VI 

1. What news came to the castle on the next day ? 

2. What effect did this have on the Baron and the other 

members of his family ? 

3. What strange vision did the bride have ? 

4. What plans did she and her aunt make for sleeping in the 

castle ? 

5. Tell about the disappearance of the bride. 

6. How did she later surprise her father ? 

7. How was the mystery cleared up ? 

8. How did the aunts and relatives regard this turn of affairs ? 

Lessons VII-VIII 
These lessons are for oral or written composition. 
I. Description. 

A. The characters : 

1. The Baron. 

2. The Aunts. 

3. Count von Starkenfaust. 

B. A German Castle. 

C. The Daughter's Education and Training. 
II. Narration. 

A. Count von Altenburg's Adventure in the Forest. 

B. Von Starkenfaust at the Castle. 

C. The Disappearance and Reappearance of the Bride. 



172 IRVING STORIES 

THE ADVENTURE OF MY AUNT 

Lesson I 

In order that the pupils may gain a general knowledge of the 
story read the entire story before a study of it is undertaken. 

Lesson II 

1 . In what book does this story appear ? 

2. What is said in the Introduction about the circumstances 

under which the story was told ? 

3. Locate Derbyshire; Botany Bay. 

4. Explain how a sundial works. 

5. Find out what a blunderbuss is like. 

6. Who were the Tarquins ? 

Lesson III 

1. Compare the uncle and aunt. 

2. How does Irving humorously describe the uncle's death ? 

3. How did the aunt show her grief ? 

4. In what different ways does Irving show the weird, 

haunted nature of her new home? 

5. Describe her preparations for the night. 

6. Tell about the coming to life of the portrait. 

7. How did the members of the household arm themselves ? 

8. Tell about the tearing down of the picture and the strange 

discovery. 

9. What was the fate of the culprit ? 

Lessons IV-V 
These lessons are for oral or written composition. 
I. Description. 

A. The Aunt. 

B. The Haunted House. 

C. Some Haunted House you may Have Seen or Imagined. 

II. Narration. 

. 1 . The Aunt 's A.dven1 lire. 

II. An Original Story of a Haunted House. 

C. An ( Jriginal Ghost story. 



LESSON STUDIES 173 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 

Lessons I-II 

In order that the pupils may gain a general knowledge of the 
story read the entire story before a study of it is undertaken. 

Lesson III 

1. In what book does this story appear? 

2. What does the Introduction say as to the occasion for the 

writing of this book ? 

3. Locate Granada and Tangiers. 

4. Tell something about the Moors in Spain and the conquest 

of Granada. The Introduction and your encyclopedia 
will assist you. 

5. When was the Alhambra built ? 

6. What was there within the early stronghold? 

7. How were the walls decorated ? 

8. How did the Gate of Justice get its name ? 

9. What strange story is connected with the porch of the 

gate? 

10. How did the Square of the Cisterns get its name ? 

11. Tell about King Chico's request as he passed through the 

gate of the Tower of the Seven Floors. 

Lesson IV 

1. Describe Peregil, the water-carrier. 

2. With what words did he greet customers ? 

3. Wliat was his manner toward them ? 

4. What was his home life like ? 

5. Describe his wife. 

6. How did she spend'her time ? 

7. Compare his home life and his regard for his family with 

that of Rip Van Winkle. 

8. How were their holidays spent ? 

Lesson V 

1. Tell about Peregil's meeting with the stranger. 

2. How did he treat the Moor's request for help and shelter ? 



174 IRVING STORIES 






3 How did the children act when they saw the stranger 

4! How did his wife feel about sheltering the stranger? 

5. How was Peregil rewarded for his kindness ? 

6. How did he and his wife feel when the Moor died? 

7. What did he plan to do with the body of the Moor? 

8. What is your impression of the barber ? 

9. How did Peregil act when he noticed the unusual stir at 



10. 



his neighbor's ? 
Relate the conversation between the barber and the 
alcalde. 

11. What is an alcalde ? 

12. What kind of man was this particular one ? 

13. Tell about the conversation between the alcalde and 

Peregil. 

14. Describe the sandalwood box and its contents. 

15. What did Peregil lose as a result of his interview with the 

alcalde? Why? 

16. What was his feeling about this loss? 

Lesson VI 

1. How did Peregil's wife taunt him about the sandalwood 

box? 

2. Tell what happened one night during one of her angry 

spells. 

3. What was told the water-carrier about the scroll ? How 

did Peregil regard this information ? 

4. What stories were told by the gossips ? 

5. What effect did these stories have on Peregil's interest in 

the scroll ? 

6. What plan for securing the treasure did the Moor suggest \ 

7. Tell about the journey through the Tower of the Seven 

Floors. 

8. What happened when the charm was used ? 

9. What was found in the last vault? 

10. Tell about the return from this vault. 

11. How were the talismans shared? 

12. What was the Moor's advice regarding the secret? 



LESSON STUDIES 175 

Lesson VII 

1. Tell about the reception Peregil received from his wife, 

when he returned. 

2. How well did she keep the secret ? 

3. What did she spend the time at home doing ? 

4. What finally caused the discovery of the water-carrier's 

wealth ? 

5. What plan did the alguazil make for securing the treasure ? 

6. Tell the story of the next visit to the treasure vault. 

7. How did the Moor deceive and imprison the other three ? 

8. When did he say they would be released ? 

9. How did the Moor and Peregil share the treasures ? 

10. What was the later history of the Moors and of Peregil ? 

Lessox VIII-IX 
These lessons are for oral or written composition. 
I. Description. 

A. The Characters : 

1. Peregil, the water-carrier. 

2. His Wife. . 

3. The Stranger at the well. 

4. The Barber. 

5. The Alcalde. 

B. TheAlhambra: 

1. Decorations on the walls. 

2. The Square of the Cisterns. 

3. The Tower of the Seven Floors. 

C. Peregil compared to Rip Van Winkle. 

11. Narration. 

A. Peregil and his Children on an Outing. 

B. The Barber's Story of the Eventful Night at Peregil's. 

C. The Search for Treasure by the Moor and Peregil. 

D. The Adventures of the Three Treasure Seekers. 

E. An Original Story of Treasure Hunting. 
III. Explanation. 

.4 . How this Storv Resembles the Storv of Aladdin. 



176 IRVING STORIES 

THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA 

Lessons I-II 

In order that the pupils may gain a general knowledge of the 
story read the entire story before a study of it is undertaken. 

Lesson III 

1. Review the story of the surrender of Granada, as told in 

the Introduction. 

2. Can you tell why Granada is subject to earthquakes? 

3. What interesting story is connected with the Tower of the 

Infantas ? 

4. Explain the parts of the castle mentioned in the fourth 

paragraph. 

5. Tell something about falconry and explain the words 

gyrfalcon and quarry. 

6. What was the Generaliffe ? 

7. Review the story connected with the Gate of Justice. 

8. Locate Granada; the Sierra Nevada Mountains; Ver- 

sailles; Cremona. 

Lesson IV 

1. What two changes in Granada are described at the open- 

ing of the story ? 

2. How were Spain and Italy united in the rule of Spain ? 

3. What position did Ruyz de Alarcon occupy ? 

4. Describe him. 

5. What happened to his gyrfalcon ? 

6. What did the page see as he peeped through the fortress 

door ? 

7. Tell about his meeting with the princess. 

8. Why was she cautious about admitting him ? 

9. Describe her. 

10. What favor did she give him ? 

11. What explanation did she make to her aunt ? 

12. What do wo learn of the princess's earlier history? 
L3. By wikiI title had she come to be known? 



LESSON STUDIES 177 

Lesson V 

1. What did the aunt see as she returned from watching the 

king's departure? 

2. Describe Jacinta's behavior after the page's departure. 

3. How did her aunt try to console her? 

4. What did Jacinta see in the fountain one night ? 

5. Tell the story of the three princesses which her aunt re- 

lated to her. 

6. Tell what happened at the fountain on the following night. 

7. What is a lute? What unusual powers did Jacinta's lute 

have? 

8. Show how she was received as she traveled abroad. 

9. What strange fancies did King Philip have ? 
LO. What did the queen do to calm him ? 

11. What did she promise Jacinta ? 

12. Tell about Jacinta's playing before the king. 

13. What was the effect of her music ? 

14. What surprising thing happened ? 

15. Why had Ruyz de Alarcon neglected her so long ? 

16. What became of the enchanted lute ? 

Lessons VI-VII 
These lessons are intended for oral or written composition. 
I. Description. 

A. The Characters: 

1. The Rose of the Alhambra. 

2. Aunt Fredegonda. 

3. Ruyz de Alarcon. 

B. The Alhambra. 

1. The Gate of Justice. 

2. The Tower of the Infantas. 

C. Falconry. 

II. Narration. 

A. The Meeting of the Page and " The Rose of the Al- 

hambra." 

B. Jacinta's Visions. 

C. How Jacinta Used Her Enchanted Lute. 



